Reality…

Reality… when your talents count against you….

I never realized that my enjoyment of writing for little challenges and such would turn out to be a negative in a job interview for something entirely unrelated, but it has. Thing is, I really, really need to be working and earning an income. So, it seems I must leave my beloved blog behind with deep deep water sadness.

The Door…

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Photo prompt: C. J Hardy Carroll

Author’s note: I’m in mid-edits on something at the moment, so I’m playing with those characters. You’ll Recognize Alexander as being Dr. Alexander Bearfighter from my Hope Ranch series. Abigail is a current resident who just returned from the tropics where she experienced some pretty traumatic circumstances. So, I just popped out this little ditty this morning. Rough as it is. It speaks of how difficult it is to move on after tragedy, I believe.

 

‘No, Alex, please.’ Abigail latched onto the edge of the door. ‘No, I can’t…’

Alexander patiently watched her. ‘I assure you, you’re totally safe. There are no cartels here.’

Abigail sank to her knees, fighting back the memory of that day. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t walk through the door. As much as she’d like to, and as much as she loved the tropical plants, she couldn’t will herself to step through the door.

‘When you can come through the door and face the past, you can heal.’ He reminded her. ‘Until then, you’ll be frozen in time.’

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to J Hardy Carroll for this week’s photo. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

 

 

The Gift

 

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Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Walking into the antique mart, I froze. Tucked behind an ancient telephone, it sat. I couldn’t move, words failed. A piece of my life…

Tentatively, I reached out to the tag.

“SOLD”.

My heart fell to my toes, further still. Turning, I walked out. In my car, I wept. To come so far… to find it… and now…

I was heart and soul broken.

Next morning, I padded down to the living room, bedecked in Christmas splendor. Beneath the tree a single package addressed to me.

I opened it. Tears came. It was a piece of my life restored.

wc: 99

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who also gave us this awesome picture to write from this week! If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

The Water Was Clear…

The Water Was Clear…

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photo prompt: google images

The water was clear. That’s what Emri remembered the most. He missed the shipboard life. The very air here on Terra Firma smelled differently. He sighed as he stood beside the small lake.

‘It is so different.’ He mumbled more to himself than to his wife. ‘It’s not the dreamworld we always thought it would be. Not perfect, nor does it really resemble the paradise that we’d been led to believe it would be.’

Sighing again, he squeezed Zithri’s hand.

‘Maybe our parents painted a picture of paradise so that we could continue their dreams.’ Zithri noted.

‘Ah, but such dreams… peace, tranquility, lands of milk and honey…’ He shook his head. ‘There is no peace, no tranquility… and milk and honey are still in short supply.’

‘Maybe so. But we are home… and that, my dear, is all that matters.’ Zithri smiled, leaned into his chest and kissed him.

WC: 150

 

This is written for What Pegman Saw, a weekly 150 word writing adventure into realms and lands filled with beauty and adventure. If you’d like to join in the fun, or are curious enough to visit other lands with us, then please follow the link to Pegman’s world and join us… https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/   Just follow the prompt tab to the blue froggy!

 

L’Chaim!

dales-gazebo
C. Dale Rogerson
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C. BearStarfire McQuinn

 

‘L’Chaim – To Life!’ Rebi David smiled.

‘L’Chaim.’ I responded out of habit.

Every morning, without fail, I heard the greeting.

This simple exchange came to mind as the Lawyer placed the sacred Torah in my hands. Rebi David had found me as my soul was railing against the very existence of God. He backed his greeting with showing me that it was ‘okay’ to live.

‘…To whom life has been returned there is a duty.’ He would remind me.

I frowned in confusion. ‘What duty?’

‘First, to live. Second, to live well. To do less would be to insult God.’

WC: 100

Author’s Note:

I confess, this week’s pic really didn’t hit the spot for me. Instead, I was inspired this week by Rochelle’s not fiction piece, I decided to share this. Shortened greatly for space. Just one of the many things I learned from Rebi David who was a professor at the community college I attended after the accident. A place where I learned so very much that people take for granted like reading, writing, even speaking. It was a time of much fear, and much confusion, and a time when my faith was at the bottom of the valley, my bones completely dry. Through his constant reminder I slowly refound my faith and began to live again. This past week, a lawyer and a life insurance agent found me, saying they had a gift from Rebi David. I was shocked and very very touched when they laid his Hebrew Torah into my hands. It was the one that he kept in his desk and would often read it to me. I am blown away by this simple gift. I do not know the language, but as I look over the words, I can almost hear his voice reading it… reminding that God still cared for me and that it was ‘Okay’ to continue to live… and to live well.

As this is the Christmas season, this gift, the memory of the journey… what a better gift?

I hope that everyone has their own ‘Rebi’ in their life that walks along beside you and helps you to find that is wonderful to live… and to live well! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah!

In this next year let this be your inspiration, too… ‘L’Chaim – to Life!’

 

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Mikhael Sublett for this week’s photo prompt, too. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

Collateral Damages.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Collateral Damages.

Somewhere, Iraq 201?

Objective: Evacuate Orphanage to neutral territory

7 member team

2 Staff

3 infants, 15 toddlers, 40 children

Incident report follows…

Pre-dawn. Bus loaded. All is well.

Five miles down the road, encounter IED. Casualties: 1 staff, 13 children killed instantly.

Insurgents IED to ambush, shooting all survivors.

Casualties: 52

Survivors: 1

Report filed this date.

 

wc: 60

If I’ve stepped on your toes with this one… Good!

This, unfortunately is one reality of war we often tend to shove under the proverbial rug… we call them “collateral damages” as if such a sterile term can act as a shield to the atrocities of war. War is real. Death is real. Collateral damages are far from mere collateral. Let’s keep it in the “Real” and not forget the innocents that have been and continue to be lost. Remember them this season of “love”.

 

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Fatima Fakier Deria for this week’s photo prompt, too. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

Open Doors

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PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

Author’s Note: The story really has nothing to do with the photo prompt. I was more touched by Rochelle’s tribute to thanksgiving story.

 

Open Doors…

Tenskwatawa ( Open Door) thrashed in his beneath his blankets, completely unaware that it was the blankets themselves that had brought on the awful fevers. In the last hour, the small red spots that had appeared over his body had become puss filled. His throat ached too much to even utter a prayer to the Great Spirit for relief.

Beside him, the Healer chanted prayers, pleading for the Great Spirit to save his friend. His wife held wet cloths to his forehead. Neither realized that their efforts would only spread the disease.

Deep in the nigth, Tenskwatawa’s breath shuddered as his spirit left his body.

Wc: 105

In case you’re wondering what small pox looks like… a pic is worth a million words. If you’re interested in learning a little more about the disease, here’s a link from a reputable source about it: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/smallpox/symptoms-causes/syc-20353027

Or, if you choose, here’s a link to what the CDC has to say about it… https://www.cdc.gov/smallpox/symptoms/index.html

The more you understand about the disease, the more horrific that first thanksgiving in America will be to you… then, maybe, you’ll start to realize why Native Americans are so leary of outsiders.