(Photo: Jim Moore)
He now possesses
Every want:
A hat, a sweet
Face coat.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Possess in 11 words
All Wants
Writing
A Leap Of Faith
She always knew the road could end.
Rickety throughout, it got almost impassable in places. It was a folly, she’d been told. A fool’s errand. Doomed to fail.
The way had never been fully completed, quite possibly never fully traversed. So many had abandoned it that there would be no rest stops, no soft places to lay one’s head.
Indeed, each step confirmed the lack of maintenance.
Still, it was her path to take, her journey to attempt.
And when she faced the maw, the utter void of all support, she knew.
She could turn back.
Or she could leap.
For Rochelle‘s Friday Fictioneers
Photo Prompt: © Alicia Jamtaas
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Topper
‘Twas the best spot in the woods and he was keeping to it.
Sure, it had almost no leaves and practically no protection from the wind. Sure, the branches whipped around in every breeze and let the cold sneak under the most primped up feathers.
It none of it mattered.
When he could perch up at the very top.
Surveil. Keep tabs. See things first. Unhindered by masses of pine needles or large floppy green things hiding one’s next dinner.
“See Topper there?” he heard a winger chatter at another. “He thinks he’s top banana.”
“Not banana,” Topper retorted, and puffed his chest for emphasis with not-so-hidden indignation. “Top crow!”
For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto Challenge
Photo prompt: Sue Vincent
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Only Cooler
(Photo: Chagit Moriah Gibor)
It was going to be a gargantuan effort, but that had never stopped her before.
No matter what others always said she could do.
The skis were first. Adjusted to work over the wheels like skids on seaplanes. Only cooler.
Literally.
She slid through the ice and snow to find a clean patch. Shoveled up the snow onto her lap to press into a ball. Rolled and patted. Devised a ramp and pulley to hoist the second ball. Plopped on the third. Poked in twigs.
There.
Lopsided, but so was she.
Her snowman. Wheelchair be damned.
For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Gargantuan in 96 words
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His Hummingbird
The day had been dreary so far. The cold. The damp. The boring wait for the car’s repair. The need to keep her body still and her mouth from chattering.
Gran did not let her wander. Or climb. Or touch things.
“You’ll get filthy.” Gran had stated. Like an ultimate sin.
At first Beth did try to argue. Daddy always said that filth is easy to wash off and that a bit of dirt was no excuse for sitting out good fun.
Gran did not think highly of Daddy.
“What judgment that man could have had in him,” Gran grumbled, “he’d given it up when he chose to leave my uterus early … and it only went downhill from there.”
Or up, Beth thought. He had promised to watch over her. Before the angels called.
“My Hummingbird,” he’d called her.
Her eyes rested on the sign. She smiled.
Hi Daddy.
For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
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Not Rolling With It
“No way I’m doing that!” Ming shook his head.
“Oh, come on, don’t be a wimpy dimpy!”
Ming narrowed his green eyes at Mei-Mei, whose body was swishing in what he knew was part-dare, part-enticement, part-mockery.
“Not happening,” he turned to leave.
“Ha! I knew it! Told General Tso you’d be too chicken to give it a whirl.”
Ming hissed. That hurt. Mei-Mei was beautiful, but mostly on the outside.
He swished his tail at her. “You wanna ride the toilet paper? Go ahead. Roll with it. Be my guest. I’m not falling into that bowl.”
Again … Once was enough.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Trish Nankivell
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Hard Earned Wisdom
Heart Stone was in the path so people would slow pace as they neared Sentinel Rock.
It was a caution.
And a point of respect.
One did not pass by without giving Sentinel Rock at least that much in respect, and almost all knew better than to try and trick the ancients.
Oh, you could gallop past without a care in the world, but care was sure to catch up with you soon enough: A broken foot, a crack in your mount’s hoof, an ache that kept you up at night and led to carelessness the next day or the one after.
Heart Stone was there for a reason, and only fools rushed in.
Fools like him.
He should have known better.
Now he nursed a bee sting in a place no bee should sting, and he had no one to blame but himself for the carelessness and the ensuing punishment.
He told no one. Ashamed at his foolery.
Tossing in distress upon his pallet he pledged to pay his respect the very next day, and to bring with him an offering. He should have known.
Sentinel Rock saw everything, and Heart Stone kept no secrets. Stone spoke to stone.
On the other side of the hut his grandmother placed her hand upon the rock wall’s foundation and sighed in quiet realization. It was the price of youth.
She knew.
Long ago she, too, had to learn to heed the ancient’s lessons and slow her pace to match. Her crooked wrist still carried her own scars of hard earned wisdom.
For Sue Vincent’s Write Photo
Photo: Sue Vincent
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Beguiled
(Photo: Rhett Wesley on Unsplash)
When she returned home
They thought
She had grown into what they had always
Hoped she’d be.
Instead she was
A mistress of
Illusion.
A mouth that spoke,
A smile that held
A hidden mock,
Bewitching their longing
Into the
Nightmare
She had planned
For them to feel
But not
See.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Beguile in 51 words
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Water Wait
“Who put it there?” Moe grumbled.
The waiting room was almost empty, but it only added to his resentment. Don’t people know it is cruel?
Alisha looked up from the small screen that consumed her waking moments and too many of what should have been her sleeping ones.
“Put what where?”
At least she was sort-of-paying attention.
“That,” he put as much contempt as he could manage with a parched brain into the word. He hated clinics. Especially this one.
“Oh, it’s yours,” Alisha handed him the water bottle. “Nurse said to have some. Told you no need to fast.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Marie Gail Stratford
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One For The Way
(Photo: Dustin Humes on Unsplash)
She knew when she opened the window
That day
That it would be
One
For the way.
The frost on the petals
The chill in the air
The way that stray branches
Scraped against the stair.
The breath of new winter
Kissing her hair.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Way
Na'ama Yehuda 
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