Gentle Giant

laundry helper karenforte

Photo: Karen Forte

 

Hello Mom

I have come

To help with

The clothes.

Can you see

Just how gentle

I am being

With those?

I did not bite a hole

Heel or toe

In the socks.

Nothing like

What I’d done

To the new

Garden hose.

 

 

For this week’s Tuesday Photo Challenge: Gentle

 

Forgotten Foundations

deserted in the desert ofirasif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

“Will he come back?” Leah peered over the wall.

Rachel pulled her younger sibling back into the shade.

“Will he?” Leah pressed.

“I don’t know,” Rachel’s voice caught. She coughed to hide her fear. She’d break if her sister became frightened. It would make everything too real.

She didn’t know where they were. A car ride preceded a long hike into the desert and the nap in the ruins. “Best thing during the heat of the day,” Dad said.

He was gone by the time they woke, deserted like forgotten stones.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Foundations in 91 words

Not Minor

longneck tribe adirozenzvi

Photo: Adi Rozen-Zvi

 

You hold on in the mountains

Where the way of life you had fled

To protect

Has become

Tied into tourists arriving:

Some to gawk

Others to try and learn a bit about

Your rich traditions,

The pain and pride,

The dignity and patient ways,

The complicated significance

Of who you are

And may wish to remain

And how it is bound into the realities

Of avenues still open to you

In a country where you are

Curios and assets,

As well as precious human beings

Full of life and memories,

And to me rare less in your numbers

Than in the profound window

You open into the uniqueness of

Each one of us

And the minority we are or can be

At any time

To some.

 

 

For the Friday Foto Fun challenge: Minorities

 

 

The Fence

Photo: © Russell Gayer

 

“We don’t go There,” Mama always warned. “Ever.”

“There” was beyond the fence. Where the embankment locked in perpetual shadows and where the yellow cliffs rose shining in the sun and where the scary things lived and mortal danger was certain to find you.

As a child I never questioned the relative flimsiness of the wire fence and how it possibly prevented such pervasive awfulness from invading the compound.

It wasn’t until much later that it occurred to me to wonder whether both the fence and its electric bite were there to keep us in.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers