Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Alicia Jamtaas
Inception
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go…. I remembered this photo from years ago and I was curious to find the story I wrote back then…so this is an encore.
Copyright – J Hardy Carroll
This was my home. Never really liked it.
It was a splendid house, filled with gorgeous people surrounded by beautiful things…With shadows lurking in dark corners.
Unwanted hands grabbing whatever they could get, sinister whispers wrapping around innocent souls, heads turning to the other side, pretending not to see what should never be unseen.
It seemed I never really left, towing all that baggage half across the world, with ghosts flying out of my suitcases. In the end, it was not the inheritance that dragged me back, but those persistent ghosts.
This was my home. I set it on fire.
I Lived Here
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Na’ama Yehuda
It seems so strange and unfamiliar to stand here. My mind and memory are engaged in a perpetual game of catching up and I don’t know who is wining, which is a silly notion to begin with. Either way, there is only one losing side. There was a time when it was easy to fool oneself that we were happy, but shades of gray creeped in gradually, sweeping over our colorful world. I can’t help but smile when a memory breaks out of you standing at the door, professing your despise for pink.
Ever-changing Shapes
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Ceayr
Is there anything trickier than the very nature of water?
The cool sip from a tall glass on the hot summer day that quenches the thirst…or the suffocating feeling while waterboarded in a cold prison cell.
Gentle warming touch under the shower after the afternoon of making love…or the stiffness of the wet clothes while seeking shelter under the bridge.
Laughing when a friend pulls you under water on your summer vacation…or fighting the waves of panic while floating in a dingy on a stormy sea.
When the walls come down, don’t mistake my tears for the rain.
Sea, Sky and I…and Berta
I took a mini-break few weeks ago and traveled to island of Brač. It was the middle of February and I needed to refill my batteries. So I woke up one Saturday morning, threw few things in my bag and Berta and I hopped into my car for a 3,5 hours drive from Zagreb to Split.
One ferry ride later I was in Supetar. The weather was perfect and the moment I stepped on the ferry deck, my vacation truly started. Accompanied by seagulls and light breeze, my ferry trip was made perfect when this old ship offered itself for a photo opportunity.
There is a special place where Berta and I used to take morning strolls years ago and it was nice to return to that very spot. Naturally, Berta behaved in her usual manner, completely ignoring my attempts to capture a photo of her. But somehow, her pose suits this composition…observing the sunrise. So I pretend it was just the way I wanted it.
After few minutes of walking we ended up in the little cove and Berta decided to dip her paws just a little bit. I am lucky she decided it was too cold for a swim, because despite a very sunny day it would be a nightmare drying her afterwards. Small miracles and all that…
On our way back we ran into a flock of little birds who performed a concert for us…even Berta was interested in their music and she is a tough crowd to please.
Croatia is famous for its stone walls which dates back thousands of years . The art of dry stone walling, know-how and techniques in Croatia were globally recognized in November 2018, when this form of art was added to the Representative List of Intangible UNESCO Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
This particular forest follows the coastline for few kilometers and it offers some splendid views over a Brač channel to the mainland coast and the mountains Mosor and Biokovo. Although a popular tourist destination over the summer, I think people should visit these parts in winter months, when the weather can be so nice and you don’t have to fight for your spot under the sun.
And finally!!!! A success!!! She was kind enough to pose for me.
Thank you Berta! ❤ ❤ ❤
After 72 hours of bliss it was time to head back home. But it was worth it and I returned reinvigorated and with high spirits. Now it’s time for a new adventure…I wonder where Berta would like to go next.
As always, you can find me on Instagram under the nick snowlocked. I would love if we could connect there, too.
Spent
Just the other day I thought about dVerse community and how long it has been since I wrote a poem. It feels like waves crashed over me and kept me under water, barely letting me break the surface in time for another inhale. Maybe this old thing I revisited today might push me in the right derection.
Edward Atkinson Hornel – Portrait of an Old Man in a Scarlet Tunic, 1881.
Autumn is crashing his bones,
his heart a silent drummer.
Oh, how it drummed so loud
in his waisted summer.
He longs to cry once more,
but it seems his tears
have been used up
in his wasted years.
His hands have been broken
in one too many strife;
he crossed too many lines
in his wasted life.
If only he could feel
just for a moment, whole;
but there is no return
for his wasted soul.
The roots cruelly transformed
To the ties that bind.
It seems the run is over
for his wasted mind.
My offer for today is an old thing I wrote few years ago…I was watching a wrestling match on TV and it made me think about the lives of pro-wrestlers, of the risks they take from day to day…from town to town…to earn few bucks here and there. How dark is their autumn and how cold is their winter?
There’s No Place Like The Road
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Roger Bultot
The old blanket feels harsh against my skin as I lay perfectly still to avoid unpleasant sound of shrieking bed springs. The mosquito net is suffocating me, although I can spot more than few large holes mocking me.
My hosts are pleasant enough, the food is excellent and my room is not the worst I’ve been to. And the weather…the weather is not on my side.
But I am simultaneously suffocating and drowning. With one swift move I am off the bed, hoping the heavy rain will conceal my exit.
I’ll try harder next time.
Halfway To Nowhere
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Dawn Miller
Careful observer would notice there was never too much swag in his step. Calloused hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his pinstripe suit and slightly tipped hat gently obscured his weathered face. He was a gentleman, at first glance and at the second one.
But he never managed to blend in with the city lights. And the irony of it all struck him hard as he minutely studied how the dust settled on the tips of his black shoes.
Watching the house built on broken hearts and shattered dreams, he knew it was too late. She moved on.
Table For Two
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Dale Rogerson
We were young once.
I can’t really remember how it felt, but it must have been better than how all these years on my shoulders feel. The face in the mirror avoids me and I am trying to decide if I am bothered by what I see.
It sneaked upon me yesterday…the realization I stopped crying. I am afraid our memories will start to slip away and you will disappear from the seat across from me. The table for two that usually seemed too small threatens to devour me.
And still…in my dreams we are always together.
Scotch-taped
Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – Ted Strutz
When another tragedy sneaked its way into her already fractured world, she tried to pick up all the pieces and hold them together with a scotch tape. It held remarkably well for the longest time.
World moved on at its usual pace and she fell behind. With time she mastered the smiles of reassurement, avoiding those awkward moments when people ask you how you feel, hoping you wont break down in front of them.
Although the scotch tape still holds her together, few little pieces are irreversibly lost and she wonders when will it all fall apart.
For Irena…always and forever.
Snow's Fissures and Fractures 