This week, we are to write about a bucket of water. I’m a bit out of practice, but hopefully this story will resonate with you.
I stared into the bucket of water expecting to see my own
image stare back at me. Instead, the image of a Rusalka water nymph wavered within
the watery depths. Her eyes glinted with green fire and her golden hair drifted
around her shoulders.
She slipped from the water and stood before me clothed only
in the gray mists that circled the banks of the river.
“Come, friend. I’ll show you the way.”
“You died before your time, and now you’ve transformed into
a Rusalka water nymph.”
November 15, 2018, Carrot Ranch Literary Community prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that uses scraps. It can be scraps of dried flowers, paper, metal, fabric, food — any kind of scraps you can think of. Then write a story about those scraps and why they matter or what they make. Go where the prompt leads you.
Respond by November 20, 2018.
Sally watched Nana roll the scraps of dough into a ball on
the floured cutting board. This was her first time baking, and she couldn’t
wait to mimic every move her grandmother made.
“Why do you roll it into a circle?”
Nana smiled as she maneuvered the rolling pin. “Because it’s
easier to fit inside the pan.”
“But you could use a square pan, right?”
“Yes. I could, but the circle reminds me of our family. I gave birth to your mommy, and she gave birth to you. If we all hold hands, it’s a circle of our love.”
Here’s to your baking success this holiday season!
With trails that stretch across the sky, some comets burn so brightly they appear during the light of day. They burn into our imaginations, sparking questions and prophecies. Some people dance (naked), some despair.
Writers flashed comets this week with tales from around the world and both hemispheres. Take a ride on a comet through the literary art of flash fiction.
The following is based on the August 16, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a comet.
PART I (10-minute read)
The Comet of 1858 by James McCanles (5th-great-grandfather of Charli Mills)
Hail! beautious stranger to our sky,
How bright thy robes appear,
Noiseless thou trends thy paths on high,
And converse with all our stars.
In radiant flame of glowing light
Thy silent orb rolls on,
Through vast eternities of night,
To mortal man unknown.
I’m short on time today because I played in the dirt yesterday, so I’m combining my Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge with the Carrot Ranch.com flash fiction challenge, with those rules below. Click HERE to learn more about this week’s Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge.
May 3, 2018, Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) use a line in your story. You can think of the variation of the word meaning, or you can think of visual references. Go where the prompt leads.
Respond by May 15, 2018. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments.
I plunged my hands into the soil feeling the remains of winter’s damp. I smiled as the sun’s abundant rays covered me in a blanket of warmth and opulence. Today brings the first indication that a line has been crossed from winter into spring.
Consecrating life –
Goddess fertility thrives,
Birds cantillate, flowers bloom,
crops sprout neath the flower moon.
Spring has always been my favorite time of year. Beltane is halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. Beltane honors new life. It represents that Spring is underway, and Summer is just around the corner.
These are newest finch babies in my garden, measuring about two inches long. Both the mother and father were mad that I climbed the ladder to photograph their offspring nestled beneath the overhang under our front porch. I lulled the parents’ frazzled nerves with fresh water and rich black nyjer seeds in the back garden. Happy Spring!
The Carrot Ranch Literary Community Challenge for February 15, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story on ice. It can be an event on the ice, a game on ice or a drink on ice. Go where the prompt leads you.
Respond by February 20, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published February 21). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!
I gazed at the lacy hoarfrost wrought in outlines of filigree angels permeating the inside of the cabin’s window panes. If the cold hadn’t been so deadly the rime might be considered picturesque. But not today. The freeze had descended quickly, and we were unprepared for the penetrating chill. Our fire had burned down to a gray ash. A layer of frost concealed the blanket covering our bodies. Deep sleep hovered. My eyes closed knowing the end was near. My last thoughts conceded that climate change was real.