HER SANTOSHA

Odds and ends in a yoga junkie's head

Friday Fictioneers: Royal Treatment

Oh dear, between one trip and another and juggling my packs all over the place, I’m afraid I haven’t had time to myself to write. Good readers and writers of the magnificent Friday Fictioneers, please accept my delayed offering below.

Photo – Claire Fuller

“His highness be a royal pain me arse! It be a terrible pity we ‘ave naught on account o’ this commission. That pipe o’ ‘is damn near burned me shop to the ground. Never mind the “No smoking” signage, the prince must ‘ave what the prince wants, an’ right now that be this fine throne. But prince or no, we’ll show ‘im what fire feels like, oh we will. Hurry with the poisoned needle, lad. His royal arse deserves the royal treatment.”

*****

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read the Friday Fictioneers’ stories here!

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Friday Fictioneers: Divine Stair

Photo copyright – Björn Rudberg

They are such a tiny folk.

Their houses are slight, their harvest meager, their weather ever-changing.

Even their hopes and dreams are minute and fleeting.

Why rise when the winds only sweep them away?

Why climb where the storms just beat them down?

What is the use of rebuilding that which will always fall to a mightier force?

I hardly notice when their roofs crumble under my step.

They are such a tiny folk.

*****

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read the Friday Fictioneers’ stories here!

Friday Fictioneers: Come with Me

I’ve been off the grid for the last couple of weeks (what a way to start the New Year) but I’ve a good excuse: I just got hitched! (What a way to start the New Year!) Photos and journal entry to follow.

Thanks for letting me hop right back in the Friday Fictioneers’ bus. The post below is dedicated to my aunt, who battled cancer for two years before finally submitting to eternal rest. She passed away 8,000 miles from home and just hours after my wedding. Thanks, Auntie, for giving the family ample time to celebrate before departing this world. You were generous until the very end.

Photo – Erin Leary

“Teresa?”

The child didn’t look up. Pale, bruised hands clung to mine. Her wispy hair shone in the dwindling twilight, the grass was soft, the breeze light, but the world still crumbled around me.

How could I tell the girl she was dying?

“Teresa?” I repeated.

“Mm?” Finally she looked up at me.

“The sun’s come up behind the hill.”

A smile split Teresa’s face like light breaking through the clouds. “I’ll race you to the top.”

*****

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read the Friday Fictioneers’ stories here!

Friday Fictioneers: Disturbance in the Night

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Photo copyright – Douglas MacIlroy

It rose from the darkness. Looming over my house, the colossus eclipses the suburban stars, its lights flashing a hypnotizing dance that accelerates as the traitorous robot aims its lasers upon us.

Quickly Calvin turns his transmogrifier on himself and instantly grows a hundred times taller. Summoning his double-handed TigerFang Sword and bellowing in rage, he strikes the titan across the chest.

“Calvin, why aren’t you asleep yet?” The lights come on as Mom enters the room and, seeing Hobbes in his hands and the destruction on the floor, yells “Calvin! That is the sixth night lamp this year!”

*****

About this challenge:

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can read the Friday Fictioneers’ stories here!

Friday Fictioneers: Gone Swimming

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Photo copyright – Jean L. Hays

Sara looks up at the stained-glass dolphin and, as is her custom, says a silent prayer for Rachel, the baby they had lost to the cold ocean storm years ago. The smell of brine is heavy in the air.

Her prayer is interrupted when the front door slams open to announce her husband’s arrival. When Sara goes out into the hallway, she spots a wet trail of sandy footprints leading into the living room.

“Darling?” Sara rounds the corner in a hurry and suddenly stops in her tracks.

Upon the floor she finds a naked child curled fast asleep, sandy water pooling beneath her. Rachel had found her way home.

*****

About this challenge:

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The Friday Fictioneers share their stories here!

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