The storm is over,
The earth rests under our feet as it should.
“You must come with us and have dinner.”
Rose hangs on my arm, leading me out the door
Up the dirt path.
Chloe runs ahead, kicking ice balls as she goes.
“I’ll get things ready,” she says.
“She means she’ll hide our secrets,” Rose smiles,
her eyes glinting with mischief.
The cat trails at our heels.
“Do you mind?” I ask.
“She doesn’t eat butterflies does she?”
“That’s good then. She’ll have a saucer of cream.”
Then I see the pouch snagged on the cat’s collar.
The StormWeaver series is a fantasy story told in 100 word increments. Read from the beginning by choosing StormWeaver in categories.
- Boxers air drying on my deck. Way to go for doing your part in reducing energy waste, Honey.
- The cat pretending to be a panther lurking in the bushes. Meanwhile every bird in a one mile radius is screeching warning cries. Does she know and still carries on with her stealth act? Wish I could pretend as much as the cat.
- The stack of coffee cups, snack plate, cereal bowl, random silverware next to my desk which tells me I’ve spent 90% of my day sitting in a three by four foot space. I call it my work cockpit. Someone save me from this electronic tomb! Backing away from the cliff. Tomorrow is another day and one day I will quit.
- My reflection in the mirror. I have silvery grey hair growing from my temples and I’m not coloring over it. I’ve earned this precious metal and I don’t want anyone to think I’m a young-in. Why would I? I had my time to be fresh, youthful and terribly ignorant. It was great. I wish I enjoyed it more but I’m totally okay with the years I’ve been granted and the wear on my mortal body that has ensued. It makes no sense to resist the transitions in life. Each stage holds a treasure to be enjoyed and I’m hunting it down every day.
- Strawberry plants loaded with blossoms in a plant that doubled in size since last year. I see that kind of fruitfulness and it makes me happy. That is tempered by two things. There is frost predicted tonight and I’m not sure those joyous blossoms will make it through. Secondly, I saw a rare squirrel in our yard (is that number 6 on the list?)which I know could race through my whole strawberry patch and gobble up the goods before I can say “strawberry shortcake”. Here’s hoping blossoms survive freeze and furry invaders.
That’s it folks! Just a foray into random stuff. Maybe one of these reflections will inspire you to write! Till then have a good one and keep your eyes open and share a “5 Things” list.
100 Word Flash Fiction Series
Where has that last pebble gone?
I make the mistake of using the broom.
Did I hear a sound, the rattle of a pebble skipping across the floor,
Out the door?
Maggie springs after it, bats it further down the worn front path,
Now I’m chasing the cat,
Chasing the stone,
Till I come upon a weeping woman in the grass.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
These lowland meadows don’t usually include
Why is she here?
“The grave. It’s gone. There was a stone here for my baby.”
And then I see it, my brown pebble.
Read the StormWeaver series by searching under #StormWeaver category.