Tracking Your Heart

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

To go on a journey you have to leave a place behind.

Hark back to the station at the start of a trip.  Hands held, promises made, bound by common memories and yet you have to go.

Fly away said the bird to the chick, flap your wings hard, soar and succeed.   The eyes that watched you grow, the hands that moulded you, are now setting you free.

You embrace that freedom.  You follow the tracks, find new paths, the tracks diverge, merge, cross bridges and you hang on for the ride.

Yet you return.  Love always brings you back.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Our parents guide us, show us the way and then once we have grown they let us go.  I am beginning to slowly realise how that works.  In memory of my father-in-law who passed away in this week.  To read the other writers this week click here.  

The Gift

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The child gazed at the reclusive prince sitting under the Peepul tree. The villagers washed his feet and offered him food.

They sat mesmerised as the enlightened one spoke in a tranquil voice explaining Dharmachakra or the Wheel of Righteous Duty. 

The child fell asleep and on waking, he saw the grown-ups offering bhiksha to the departing Buddha. He had nothing yet consumed by love he gathered dust in his two little hands as an offering.

Smiling serenely Buddha accepted the child’s offering and blessed him.

He never saw the master again but the fragrance of his memory stayed forever.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I start this year with the recount of a legend around the ancient Indian emperor Ashoka.

The story was told in the Ashokavadana ("Narrative of Ashoka"). It is believed that Buddha prophesied about the birth of Ashoka, in the story of the 'Gift of Dust'.

Baroness Helen Giskra, Baltimore [date and mode of acquisition unknown]; Walters Art Museum, 1949, by gift. 

To read how the wheel turned for the the other writers this week click here.

Farewell Princess

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

I am hiding in the shadows when she taps my back.

"You're a jittery little thing, aren't you?"

Palpitating I respond, “The last thing I need is getting caught by Jabba the Hutt”.

We snicker at the thought.

“What next Princess? They are going to skin us alive if they catch us”.

She looks at me disdainfully.

“I don’t know where you get your delusions laser brain, just make a run for it.”

She is gone now but I still remember that time when we broke the rules to watch a movie.

Farewell Princess may the force be with you.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Some of the words in this story come from the Princess Leia quotes from the Star War movies.

Another year of Friday Fictioneers comes to an end.  A year where life and work got into the way a little more than usual.   But I am glad for the escape that the Fictioneers provides and the chance to write.


 To read the other writers this week click here.  

Stay safe, have a great new year and may the force be with you.

Heart Burn

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

That’s my uncle, mouth full and mid way through his meal. 

It’s also the day the diner has its legendary all you can eat buffet.  From a mound of meat to homemade pastas, ceviche, soups; and soufflés baked to order. 

This was supposed be a relationship advice session but all I hear is the sound of mastication.

I haven’t had a proper meal since she walked out.   The smell is irresistible and I find myself savouring every bite.

He nods approvingly, “it’s your own heart that needs to heal first”.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

A story about food and love? Surely it needs a song by Bread


 To savour what the other writers have been cooking up this week click here.  

The Neigh Sayers

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Can you imagine, Reindeers?” said Black Jack.

“Haaruump” snorted Comanche, “And how is that working out for him?”

“The elves think they work harder”, said Tabitha with a disdainful swish of her tail.

“Relax equines,” chimed in Dark Intentions, “that shiny nosed hoofbeat will never be able to gallop like us.  I am sure the song goes

‘Dashing through the snow

In a one-horse open sleigh’

And not

‘Crashing through the snow

In a reindeer operated sleigh’”.

“The union’s gotta know”, muttered Comanche.

“I think he is behind the curtain”, Tabitha warned, ‘this

ain’t over till the fat guy sings”.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

That photo was taking me towards a sinister dark plot, may be dead bodies in the trough.  But nah I'll stick with the anthropomorphic horses this time.  My lesson from last week was that while travelling, laptops do not work when chargers get left at home.  Lugging a heavy laptop around probably classifies as character building.  To check what the other writers are snowed under this week click here.  

The Way Out

Copyright © C E Ayr

Only when she was leaving did she notice it.  A nondescript wooden door that was painted a shade of purple, it stood in a corner wedged between the crenelated stone walls. 

A metallic chain was stretched between the walls as if to indicate that the door was out of bounds.

“A door would have been nice”, she thought, casting her mind to all those days when the only entrance she knew was the window.

She touched her hair and felt a twinge of remembered pain.  She thought to herself, “Oh Rapunzel all that pain!  How did you miss this door?”

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

 A mysterious door guards a portal to another universe.  In this case it is a path to the stories by the other writers, to open the door with them this week click here.  

Movember Rain

The Movember Foundation is the only global charity focused solely on men's health, so this Movember I'm getting on board. I'm raising funds to tackle some of the biggest health issues faced by men: prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and poor mental health. 

Help me stop men dying too young. Join the #Movember revolution

Proudly Made in #MovemberAUS

You can donate to me or any Movemberite of your choice.

Killing Me Softly

She walked into the small club quivering with anticipation.  This humble venue with its wood beamed walls was the hub of folk movement.

The curtains parted and there he was this young boy.  She had heard about him but he was a stranger to her eyes. 

The performance started and the music enveloped her.  As he sang, it felt as if the songs were washing over her soul, strumming her pain with his fingers.  Her face flushed as if her secrets were revealed while the man on the stage read pages from her diary, telling her life with his words.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Sometimes the story writes itself.  I was going on a totally different direction but then I read this article about the origins of one of my favourite songs.   The truth be told I was listening to Roberta Flack while working today.  To read the other writers this week click here.  

I am also doing Movember this month

The Movember Foundation is the only global charity focused solely on men's health, so this Movember I'm getting on board. I'm raising funds to tackle some of the biggest health issues faced by men: prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and poor mental health. Help me stop men dying too young.

https://au.movember.com/mospace/1141902

The Journey

Copyright Jean L Hays

There is a road that you took when you started your journey, the one that takes you away from your loved ones.  You turn around and wave goodbye.

I’ll be back soon, you mouth, signalling your intention to return.

But the road never ends as it turns and twists and finds new directions.  You keep on driving further away.  Each day brings in new discoveries as the months turn into years. 

There are pit stops in this route of life.  Worn out vehicles discarded.  You pick up travelling companions on the way.

But the road it just keeps on rolling.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I've been missing for a while now but sometimes life gets in the way.  In memory of my mother-in-law who passed away in August.  To read the other writers this week click here.