Eden In A Bubble

Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll

 

They were going to have to move.

Her health. His job.

They were going to miss so many things.

The beach. Their yard. The hours spent outdoors.

He laid in bed at night, awake. Her breath gentle at his side.

She would not complain. Even if she could still speak, he knew she wouldn’t put that burden on him. It broke his heart.

He put the shards into action. Poured his mind into design.

He’d build a bubble. An Eden in the forbidding landlocked wintry ground. A lush oasis where they could both breathe in the memories of better times.

 

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Wingspan

 

“I will not have everyone out in the cold!” Mrs. M’s hands were planted firmly on her hips, and when Mrs. M’s hands were firmly on her hips, any who knew what was good for them knew to nod submissively, back up slowly, and give up.

Not Tim.

Sometimes I wondered if he had no survival reflexes or if he confronted the headmistress exactly because he didn’t care to survive.

“We don’t have to be out, out,” he argued.

Mrs. M’s cheek twitched. Oh-oh.

I backed up just in case. If she reached for the switch it would be best to not remain within wingspan.

“We can use the hot-house,” he pressed. “Sunlight and no wind. We’ll be fine.”

The twitch stopped. I held my breath.

“Most panes are intact.”

Mrs. M nodded.

I gaped.

Tim won.

Cramped orphanage or not, he found a way for outdoor play in wintertime!

 

 

 

For Crispina’s Crimsons Creative Challenge #61

 

 

 

Driving Mrs. Mama

Photo prompt: © Linda Kreger 

 

“Hope the driver remembers.” Ella fretted.

Lynn shrugged. “He’ll have to run us over if he forgot.”

“You two, line up already and stop the chatter!”

“Shush, Jerry! Let us cherish the fruits of our labor.”

Your labor?! Who manned the table saw and has more splinters than a cactus?”

“Poor Bearded Baby … I sanded them all! Quiet, here she comes!”

The van stopped at the cul-de-sac. The driver walked around to the rear and wheeled Mama down.

“Welcome home, Mama Jean!”

“Hey, Ella, ditch the camera! No slackers till the Driving Mrs. Mama Home Train clears the ramp!”

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

For A Comb

https://paleotool.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/tinsmith.jpg

 

“For all the Gods!”

“What is it?” I startled. This was the closest I’d heard Papa get to swearing.

He lifted the milking-pail to reveal a wet stain on the earthen floor. A defiant fat drop fell, confirming.

It was our only pail.

I emptied the soup-pot into our bowls. “I’ll scrub this, Papa. It’ll cool and do till the morrow, when I’ll take the pail to the tinker. He’ll repair it for my comb.”

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Tinker in 75 words

 

 

Wagon Trail

wagon trail PhilipCoons

Photo: Philip Coons

 

Hitch the horses to the carriage,

Pack the trunk

(Or wagon) full.

There’s a lot yet to discover,

As we hit the road.

Now pull!

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Road

 

 

Roll Control

handbrake SmadarHelperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

When the push

Comes to shove

And a full stop

Recommended,

Put a rock

‘Hind to lock

So any roll

Is suspended.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Roll

 

 

Out Of Shape?

practically speaking ChagitMoriahGibor (2)

Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor

 

If you are

Out of shape

Worry none

Worry naught,

For a log’s now

A bench

Where a rest can be

Sought.

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Geometric shape

 

Not All Is Lost

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

 

They were always getting blown out of their homes. She couldn’t stand it. She knew how it felt to be homeless, especially for a youngling. And she’d seen the devastation of parents who’d returned to find some force had swept their babies off to unknown and worse places. She knew about being lost.

She was going to stop it.

At least for them.

Surely if she built it, they will come.

She kept checking and almost despaired, but one morning … there they were.

“Welcome home,” she whispered to the first eggs laid.

 

 

For Friday Fictioneers, August 3, 2018

 

Chill Your Fill

Chill InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

If you’re out and about

But your thirst is quite real

There’s a clear stream awaiting

To help you chill your fill.

 

 

For the Sunday Still Challenge: Summer drink