This has been hanging out in my drafts since, well, forever! I had trouble finding the original challenge since Crispina posted it last December… and I took my picture a few months ago, thinking, I seem to remember there being a puddle reflection back sometime ago. I was right and here is the result. Good thing Crisp insists there is no time limit 😉
There are those whose reflections are pristine:
perfection personified, not a flaw to be found.
Are they true?
Does the pretty exterior hide an ugly interior?
One should not be so quick to judge:
not the too pretty, nor the too plain
for neither may be truthful
The imperfect reflection
may actually hide
the real and honest beauty
When we stop judging the exterior
and take the time to learn what hides beneath,
both the pretty and the plain
can shine with their own version of beautiful
Good Wednesday, my peeps! It’s been a while since I played Friday Fictioneer. I was inspired by the book I am reading. A special thank you to Penny Gadd for the use of her photo and to our hostess with the mostest, Rochelle for being there through thick and thin. Should you wish to play, just click on the frogs below and add the link to your own one-hundred-word story! G’head! It’s fun!
Click to play!
Our Special Place
From the first weekend after school ended until the weekend it started up again, we lived at great-grandpa’s cottage. Though he was long gone, we refused to call it anything else. It felt disrespectful to rename it since he is the one who built it.
I remember the summer Bill arrived. We were ten and twelve. Though he was younger than I, we hit it off from the get. Our days were spent lazing in “my” hidden pool, away from all the other cottages.
Summer after summer, our friendship grew. Who knew I would end up marrying my best friend?
On Monday, Merril was hosting dVerse Prosery. I love this challenge of using only 144 words to tell a story – not in poetry but in prose, using a phrase supplied. Merril’s head must have been in the clouds because that is the theme for this one. We must use the following:
“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter
Against the blue cloth of the sky”
–from “Clouds” by Constance Urdang
Do take the time to read her poem. It is wonderful! (Very short)
Anyway, how could I resist when I so love clouds? I couldn’t. That said, I am really late to the party so, without further ado:
Pastel hues greet me as I open my blinds, declaring that, beyond my field of vision, the sun has only just risen. I dress and step out into the morning and am immediately shrink-wrapped in a second skin of humidity. The air is thick and there is no breeze to be had. Nevertheless I set off at a light run, on soundless feet (our karate Shihan taught us to run quietly – no heels! no thuds!) I make my way along my now-familiar path, feeling I am one with the universe. My soundscape consists of cawing crows and tweeting birds. Pastels have given way to vibrant fire by the time I get to the park. I look up and Oh! But these clouds are clearly foreign. Such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky cannot ever be considered plain. Everyday exotic beauty.
It’s Wednesday! Yessiree! That means it’s time to Friday Fictioneer. I must thank Ted Strutz (so glad to see you’re getting better every day!) for the use of his picture and to Rochelle, who, even while dipping her toes in the ocean, still keeps this show running. If you’d like to play along, just click on the jumble of frogs below to add your link to your 100-word story.
Click to play!
Bills Taxes Kids Housework Stress Job Love Health Frustration Disappointment Elation Excitement Sleeplessness Hunger Pain Empathy Boredom–
“ENOUGH! All of you, OUT. NOW!”
She took a deep breath. And another.
Oh, that felt good. She could feel her body, mind and soul come back together in a cohesive and natural state of being.
“Whatcha doing? And what’s that jumbled mess?”
“That mess is a serious purge of all that was taking over my body.”
“Now I can look at each piece individually and see what needs to be done. What stays, what goes. Prioritize and organize.
Good Wednesday morning, my peeps! It’s Friday Fictioneer time and today we have this photo from J.Hardy Carroll to inspire us. As always, thank you to Rochelle for driving this train weekly! If you care to play along, just click on the frog below and add the link to your 100-word story. Easy peasy!
The Daily Wave
My train’s always on time. I pride myself on following the schedule. People count on me and I dare not let them down. Not in my nature, anyhow. So, I chug along, blowing my whistle calling the children to come out and wave. I tell you, it’s the best part of my day to see them kids running across the fields wanting nothing else but to have me return their hello. I sure wish I could bring them wherever they want to go. It’s a hard life for them with few options. But I ain’t allowed.
Where are they today?
I was reminded of my trip to Cuba. My kids and I took a short train ride and the local kids all came out running, waving to us passengers. Most smiled…
It’s Wednesday! I am afraid I don’t do fiction very well. Of course, if I didn’t have so many stories to cull from, maybe I’d work my imagination a bit more. 😉 That being said, here is this week’s Friday Fictioneer contribution inspired by Sandra Crook‘s photo. As always, thank you to Rochelle for hosting this here weekly partay! Click on the frog below to add the link to your own 100-word story if you dare…
I asked the city for permission. They said ‘no’.
Why the hell did you do that?
It’s the right thing to do.
Ahh, shit. Don’t care, I’m cutting it down anyway. It’s too huge, sways like crazy in storms and the damn pinecones end up in the pool!
Mick’s friend Pierre, a professional, did the deed while the neighbours watched and cheered (they worried with every storm, too). They then chopped and put the logs aside to dry. Firewood for next year!
Two months later, the city slapped us with an $850 fine. Plus, we had to replace the tree. Cost: $150.
Bye-bye old tree
Hello expensive new tree
It’s Wednesday and you know what that means, right? Well, most times it means I Friday Fictioneer. And this time, just before I have to hit the door for work! Woot! Thank you to Rochelle for hosting week after week, and this week, thank you to Brenda Cox for the loan of her interesting image! Click on the frogs below to play by adding the link to your own 100-word story!
Click to play!
I don’t understand how things like this go down. Everything is perfect and then… uprooted In the blink of an eye. Why do I put up with it? Every move means starting over, rebuilding in an unknown environment. I have to relearn where to go and how to go about getting it. The kids are amazing, though. So far, they seem to thrive on each new change. For them, it’s a new world to explore with new friends to make. How did I manage to raise such open and enthusiastic children when I, myself am tormented each and every time?
Good Wednesday evening, my peeps. I almost didn’t play this week. But this photo called me. And then I worried I’d do something similar to what I’ve already done so… I’ve decided to do a little FanFic. One of former Friday Fictioneers, Claire Fuller, was my inspiration – considering I’m reading her latest and fourth novel, it might be the why 🙂 Should you have something wonderful to write about this lovely image from Alicia Jamtaas, do so, please. And leave your link by clicking on the frog below. As always, a thank you goes to Rochelle for herding this rowdy bunch of cats every week!
Oh look! It could be Die Hütte from Claire Fuller’s “Our Endless Numbered Days”!
Don’t be ridiculous. It was small, but not that small! Could you imagine two people living in there?
Oh right. I guess not. Still, I don’t think it was very big. They were pretty cramped in there. And where’s your imagination, anyway?
Apologies. While we are at it, let’s pretend we are in Germany, too. Shall we go see what it looks like inside?
Maybe we’ll find a body!
I should hope to hell not! What is wrong with you anyway? Your life not interesting enough?
So way back on Monday, Merril hosted prosery Monday, where we have to write an exact 144 words of prose – not poetry – using a phrase chosen from a piece of poetry (isn’t that sneaky?) This time, Merril chose the following line from Jo Harjo’s “A Map to the Next World.”
“Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.”
Well now. I knew where I was going and then tripped and got busy on other stuff… Determined, I was, to do this baby so here I am! And yes, those who know me, know I am rather obsessed with Tuscany. What can I say? I felt I belonged in the three weeks I spent there!
We bought the plane tickets. With cancellation insurance. Which we ended up needing. I knew it, dammit. The thing is, I know better. I know it in my gut that the Universe is always listening… Even when you don’t realise you are sending out the message, she is listening. Needless to say, the plans that were, were no longer. I never expected they’d be erased from the possibility of. Hell, it was no longer even spoken of. That idea had become a dream that I alone was dreaming.
Life is funny, you know. You think in linear terms until you realise what’s crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end. All the variations of the quote about not being about the destination but the journey are muddily clarified as you realise you did make it. All on your own.
I decided to participate, nay, be inspired by the dVerse challenge from Monday. Sanaa (aka adashofsunny) was hosting prosery Monday and wanted us to use the following line: “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.” We must use the line in its entirety, though we can change the punctuation. We cannot leave out nor insert other words within the line. The story must be exactly 144 words, not including the title.
Though submerged by a dark cloud engulfing him, he managed to trudge forward in life, participating minimally. Damaged by a love past, he was unable to see the possibility of light and happiness, never mind hear any music.
“Come sing with us, Andrew. It’s all in fun and will surely lift your spirits!”
“Only mouths, are we. Who sings? The distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things! She took away my heart and the song within it,” he lamented. “It’s gone and I will never find it again.”
“You are right, you won’t. Not if you continue in this fashion. You need to step away from that dark cloud, let the light touch you again, my friend,”
“Your friend? What nonsense, this?”
“Nay, not nonsense.” She tended her hand, “Come with me. It’s time to see the beauty all around.”