Flee – What Pegman Saw

This week Pegman takes us to Armenia. You are welcome to use the photo provided in the prompt, or chose from among many photo spheres from across the country.

Will you dig into Armenia’s rich history? Delve into its present? Imagine its future? Or will you conjure your own alternate reality? The only rule is to keep your story, poem, or essay under 150 words.

Once  your piece is polished, share it with others using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others work is part of the fun!

Thank you to Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly party.

Having Armenian friends, I allowed myself to use a mix-up of their names for authenticity as well as using part of their history to create mine.  Though born in Lebanon, they will always say they are Armenians, then Lebanese… and finally Canadian!

Click on the blue frog to add your link and join in the fun!

Early April, 1915, Kevork and Siran gathered their children.

“Sebouh, Houri, we must leave as soon as it is dark.  It is no longer safe here.”

“But why, Baba?  What have we done?”

“Nothing, my sweet.  War has come to our land and the Ottoman Empire has chosen to destroy us.”

“We’re lucky that it has not reached us here, yet,” Mama added.  “We have a chance to escape this massacre.”

“I still don’t understand why,” Sebouh cried.

“Son, there are no explanations to justify destroying a people.  Men become crazed with power, believing their religion is the only one and others should not exist.  Dominance becomes their religion.

Houri frowned, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand this.”

They packed what they could carry and left, eventually making it to Lebanon to start anew.

Two generations later, civil war erupted and the Arakelian family found itself once more fleeing for safety.

The Wait – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday, my Peeps!  That means Friday Fictioneers where we write a 100-word story with a beginning, middle and end based on a… well lookit that!  MY photo!   It’s such a fun and rewarding exercise to be able to tell a story is so few words.  Okay, sometimes it’s really hard but still, it is a worthwhile challenge.  One learns to cut the crap out of a story and get to the core really quick.  At least, that’s what we try to do.   Do join in.  We are a friendly and participative (most of us) group.  Click on that there blue frog and add your link!  Our hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields does a fabulous job at stealing using, with permission, great photos that either inspire us quickly or really get us scratching our heads, hoping we don’t supply dreck!

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Mine! All Mine!


Genre:  Realistic Fiction

Word count:  100

The Wait

You said you’d be home by midnight. Midnight came and went; then one, two and three o’clock.  By one, I was getting worried.  Two, angry.  By three, I thought, I better get a knock on the door with a policeman telling me:  “I’m so very sorry, M’am, the roads were icy, there was an accident…”  I would never forgive you if you drove drunk.

Waltzing in at eight a.m, you looked sheepish.  “Babe, I was in no condition to drive and slept on Bill’s couch.  I know I should’ve called…”

I punched you in the arm, then held you tight.


Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!  Whether alone, or in a couple, or in a couple and feeling alone, I send you my love!