Almost Grown Up

(Photo: Mabel Amber on Pixabay)

 

There was a moment between

Childhood and

Being almost

Grown up,

Where she knew that she would

Very soon be

Quite possibly

All tied up.

With chores and duties

Work and house,

Strung like eyes

On knitting needles,

In a knot of adult

Life.

 

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Knot

The Orbiter

bulgaria mountains AmitaiAsif

(Photo: Amitai Asif)

 

The sun took her leisure.

It was, after all, the longest day.

She could, till the next time,

Meander

Just a little bit

Across the sky.

Peering down at the blue marble

She raised a ray to salute

The tiny orbit.

Odd,

That one,

In how it keeps questioning

Why.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Orbit in 50 words

 

Gone Fishing

 

“Where is that boy gone to again?!”

Mama’s head appeared at the open doorway, floured hands held in the air as to not touch the shutters. The afternoon sun chose to appear from behind a mass of clouds and lit the hair around her face. The braid she’d pinned in place each morning was unruly by this time of day, and the hairs glowed like a golden crown. A smidge of white colored the edge of her eyebrow where she must have wiped at it with her baker’s hands.

“I’ll go look for him, Mama,” I tapped my sister’s shoulder and readied to rise.

Mama glanced at the sky and shook her head. “No, Mauve. Stay and finish this while there’s a daylight.”

I nodded. Bethany’s long hair was draped across my apron, with parts already pinned away as I went through it strand by strand to clear it of the unwelcome visitors we had found in it the other day. We would all of us suffer the consequences if my younger sister’s locks were not tended to immediately.

“Perhaps Lena knows,” Bethany mumbled, her cheek flush against my lap.

“Hmm.”

I would almost feel Mama’s eyebrow rise.

Lena lived in the next farm over.

A moment stretched, then the bottom flap of the door swung open and Mama stepped into the yard. She circled around so that Bethany could see her without having to move her head and upset my nitpicking.

“Well?” Mama prompted.

Bethany squirmed. Even at six, she knew a shaky ground when she was on it. Gossiping was tricky. Gossiping about one’s older brother was trickier still. Especially when one may want to stay in the favors of that very brother so he would carry one’s tired self on his shoulders or share a piece of his bravely harvested honeycomb.

“Out with it, Lass!”

Bethany sighed. Being out of Mama’s good graces would be far worse than anything Jimmy could dish out.

I caught Mama’s eye on the sly. She appeared cross, but I knew she was controlling her expression, and I did not trust my giggles (or hers) if our gaze met.

“I saw Lena sneak behind the barn earlier … with …” Bethany hesitated, “with a picnic basket.”

The path behind the barn led to the small meadow that terminated in a small wood on the banks of the stream.

“And?”

Bethany’s sigh deepened. Once Mama had someone on the hook, there was no slipping off it.

“And … I saw Jimmy with the pail and rod.”

Mama’s hands landed on her hips, flour forgotten.

Bethany gasped. I bit my lips.

“So the lad’s gone fishing,” Mama stated.

She turned half-away but I could still see her purse her lips against the chuckle. “He better not become the bait.”

 

 

 

 

For KL’s WritePhoto writing challenge – Thank you for continuing Sue Vincent’s weekly prompt!

Photo: Neptune Image by KL CALEY

 

 

The Cathedral

 

They wove the curtained tapestry from centuries of hopes and dreams, and from billions of flower petals and puffy dandelion seeds blown into the wind.

They watered it with the misty breaths of “love me, love me not.”

Fed it with the light that emanated from eyes that had found the answer.

Knit it with the gentleness of fingers reaching out to hold.

Paced it with the heartbeats of the young and old.

All that was necessary.

The best of humans.

And it rose.

A cathedral of magnificence.

Delicate but strong.

Made with magic.

Laced with stories.

Wrought by fairies.

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Liz Young

 

Passing Through

hobbit-door-sue-vincent

(Photo: Sue Vincent)

 

She stood before the wall. The exit. The entry.

Hesitant though the thunder of her heart under her chin sang of excitement.

And trepidation.

For how could she not be somewhat wary, going where she was about to.

The unseen.

The hoped for.

The warned of.

The dreamed about.

For she had dreamed of it, as many do and perhaps feel reluctant to share, for fear of hastening what is inevitable or courting what is feared.

She never did find death’s door to be morbid.

It was another entrance.

An adventure all would take and may as well embrace.

She stood before the oval opening. Ready to exit the womb of this world, perhaps be reborn.

The light receded.

The door creaked.

She passed through

To the unknown.

 

 

For the WritePhoto challenge … and for Sue, in her time of transition … We’re all here holding you in light and love.

 

The Addition

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(Photo: Simona Roubkova on Unsplash)

 

“What are you going to do with this thing?”

Leah shrugged, and watched as Marty circled the addition to their household, arms behind his back in what she thought of as his ‘Wannabee Inspector General.’

“It is useless,” he muttered.

“It is cute,” she said, and chuckled at the horror on his face. “In its own way, at least.”

For to be fair, the poor creature would win no beauty contests. Patchy hair, droopy eyelid, bloated abdomen. But there was a trusting glint in the blue eye, and a gentleness that sought her heart and hooked it.

“You’d do it mercy to put it down.”

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being,” Leah challenged. “If we can be of help, why not even try?”

She reached down to pet the pup. “Her name’s Pat.”

 

 

Prosery prompt: “I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.” — Wisława Szymborska, “Possibilities”

For the dVerse prosery challenge

 

To Sea

Ocean Vistas AdiRosenZvi

(Photo: Adi Rosen-Zvi)

 

They headed out

To sea,

Amid the rocky islands

Peppering the vista

As far as the eye

Could see.

And their hearts rejoiced

In the beauty

Of their spree.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Challenge: Vista in 29 words

 

Speed Dating

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He was the shy one of the waddling. Afraid to take the lead or be left behind, he maintained his place in the middle of their paddling, webbed feet rowing furiously as to not lose his place.

“Too tightly wound, that one,” his mama tilted her head in puzzlement, for there was naught wrong with him. Middle hatched, middle weight, decent feathering.

“Good thing he’d never have to lay eggs,” his aunt quacked laughter. “Or sit on them, rain or hail or thunder!”

He pretended to not hear. Bobbed amidst the plump. Scanned the water. Dove. Rose. Dove.

“They’re just a bunch of hens,” a soft squeak sounded.

He pulled his head up too fast and almost dove back just to cover up his clumsiness.

She rested effortlessly on the water, a perfect Duckess from the skein that had dropped by their pond.

“You could leave,” she added. “Come with.”

 

 

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

 

Steps Away

 

“We’ll carry you,” they said.

“It’s only steps away.”

The breeze blew memories of salt and sand and spray.

She raised her finger.

In her mind.

For the one that lay atop the sheets no longer knew

To move.

And yet

It was okay.

Because they understood quite perfectly

What she wanted

To say.

The gladness in her eyes.

The gift

Of yet another

Day.

“We’ll carry you,” they said.

Strong arms linked

As her heart thumped

In time to

The gentle sway.

It was only a few steps

To the water.

To the breathing

Gray surf

Of the bay.

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © CEAyr

 

In A Heartbeat

Basalt Fog KarenForte

(Photo: Karen Forte)

 

The fog cocooned her.

A swift blanket

Of numbing

Penetrative chill

The sun could not

Expel.

And yet

A butterfly’s wing

Flicked against

Her cheek.

A kiss

Of warmer

Days.

A promise for

What what could,

In a heartbeat,

Thaw frost

Into bedazzled

Hope.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: swift

For Carol. On your birthday in heaven. Butterfly kisses galore.