Homeward Bound

(Photo Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields)

With the languid grace of a gymnast, Parveen landed with a soft thud and precisely braced knees on the damp mud surrounding the embankment. Gingerly wading her way through the mass of foul smelling water, she crossed over towards the second pillar whose base was partly hidden by a dense undergrowth of Sparganium eurycarpum or bur-weed.

The desperate wails had now turned to tired whimpers. Looking into the exhausted but gleaming eyes of the child Parveen went down on her knees and tenderly picked her up.

“Where are you taking me?” the shrill voice was filled with terror.

“Home”.

(Word Count: 99)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

 For the complete list of entries, please click HERE

The credit for the breathtaking photograph goes to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Flattening Our Future

“Mum is this what we call an “exvacator?” ten-year-old Ashita wondered out aloud.

“It is an excavator, Ashita”, responded Joanne while gingerly leading her daughter away from the damp mud and dampening surrounding.

“Gee, look at the speed with which it levels the soil” Ashita excitement was contagious.

(Photo Credit: wildverbs)

“You are right my child”, Joanne said losing herself for a minute in the wide expanse of muck, machinery, and men. “Is it just the soil that is being leveled or is it a flattening of our very future?” There was now a tinge of poignancy in her tone.

“Mum?” Ashita looked up at her mother with a mixture of bewilderment and alarm.

“Oh I am sorry my child. Just wanted to make you understand that creation is born out of destruction. But what we create might also destroy us. While cleared lakes may transform into cozy houses, there can be no comfort in thirst.

“So Mum, is Mother Nature the greatest leveler?”

“Absolutely my love” smiled Joanne bending to gently kiss the top of Ashita’ head.

(WORD COUNT: 175)

This story has been written as part of the FLASH FICTION FOR ASPIRING WRITERS – FFfAW Challenge #191, more details about which may be found HERE

For reading similar entries submitted in response to the FFfAW Challenge #191 please click HERE

Thank You wildverbs for the photograph!

Preserving Pictures and Purity – An Odyssey from Canyon to Canon

(Bright Angel Trail, Grand Canyon, AZ | Google Maps)

The Canyon was bathed in a magisterial hue of light reflecting the invincible power of the radiant sun. The magnificent Orb, the very source of life for the only Planet with recorded inhabitation was serenely enveloping the imperial rock formations. Thousands of shutters clicked and clacked away in unison with uncontrolled exclamations and unbelievable finger shifts. The spectacular sights this evening would be fodder for envy on Instagram tomorrow.

Parveen watched with a tinge of amusement and melancholy at the chattering tourists. Bucket lists would be ticked off, as would be showboating with selfies, but the rampant march of climate change will continue unabated. Flooding was shifting vegetation along the Colorado River to species with more drought-tolerant traits. Native willows, rushes and cattails were in great peril.

Mankind had to do something; she had to do something. Something that would go beyond mere rhetorical campaigns and Canon DSLR selfies!

(Word Count: 150)

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw

For the complete list of entries, please click HERE

Stone Age & Cartilage

JSBrand2

(Photo Credit: JS Brand)

Neither an overcast morning nor an overhang of the ominously dark clouds dampened the enthusiasm of the two geriatrics as they cautiously ambled their way out the hotel and onto the cobblestone street. Peering intently over their copies of the pocket guide book, Zampa and Keith trudged along towards “The Spectacle of the Two Horses”. The pointed end of their umbrellas made a resounding clatter each time they came down.

“Keith, there you are!” Zampa was all glee as he made his way to the platform on which was erected the two magnificent horse sculptures.

“Zampa, it’s not at all far. The horses are right up ahead!” responded Keith, following Zampa.

“Of course they aren’t made of lead. They are cast in plain stone”, Zampa retorted

“No, No a nose does not have a bone. It’s just cartilage”, now Keith was angry.

“Balderdash & Malarkey! It wasn’t built in the stone age”, Zampa turned irate.

A “Keep Silent” plaque hushed both Keith and Zampa thereby giving them not only a golden opportunity to marvel at the imperial pair of horses but also to realise the fact that both of them had unwittingly forgot to put on their hearing aids.

(Word Count: 199)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details, visit HERE.

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE

The Arrow Of Wisdom

(Photo Credit: J.S.Brand)

“What do those beautiful shapes signify Mama?” asked nine-year-old Ashita in a voice tremulous with excitement.

“They signify the very essence of life my child” replied a calm and sedate Joanne. Every sculpture and design teaches you not only how hard it is to create something but also how alarmingly simple it is to destroy. Always remember that an arrow that has left a bow and a word that has divested itself of a tongue can never be retrieved.”

Even though the essence of the moral was lost on Ashita, she felt a swell of pride towards her mother.

 (Word Count: 99)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

 For the complete list of entries, please click HERE

The credit for the breathtaking photograph goes to J.S.Brand 

Bobbin Along

(Photo Credit: Yarnspinnerr)

Her world was a splash of riotous colours. An intricate abode of yarns, spindles and bobbins. The staccato burst from the sewing machine that accompanied a fast yet methodical movement of arms and legs was her way of embellishing an unsung melody. What began as an exciting calling had now transcended into a very affirmation of her soul.

Today was no different than what was yesterday and what would be tomorrow. Helen lived her present which was moulded by the past and made malleable to the future. Arranging her multicoloured yarn and threads in tidy boxes, she perched herself on her chair facing a table upon which sat her trusted sewing machine. Order was a perfect necessity for the desired outcomes.

With great precision Helen wound the thread on the spindle. Working with a dexterity that was ridiculously perfect, she began to stitch the first scarf of the morning. It was not always like this. Even now she involuntarily shuddered when she remembered the stumbles and slips when she first lost her vision.

(WORD COUNT: 173)

This story has been written as part of the FLASH FICTION FOR ASPIRING WRITERS – FFfAW Challenge #190, more details about which may be found HERE

For reading similar entries submitted in response to the FFfAW Challenge #190 please click HERE

Thank You Yarnspinnerr for the photograph!

Mother Earth’s tears are red

(Svay Rieng Province, Cambodia | © Google Maps)

“Please do not venture deep into the bushes”, warned Arunny using her palm to shield her face from the angry rays of the sun. Siew Kuan armed with a Canon EOS 5D, nodded perfunctorily. But since the tone of her host had a steely ring to it, Siew Kuan reigned in her enthusiasm and slinging the strap of her camera over her shoulder, proceeded towards the steps of the house that appeared as though it was on stilts.

“Arunny means the sun”, said the middle aged woman whose weary face held more tales than a cartographer’s map. “But the sun set down upon me many years ago in this very backyard. It was when my little Botum stepped on a landmine.” Anger, anguish and angst had played a dance of death on her threshold.

“My land is sullied my child. The tears of Mother Earth here are red in colour.”

(Word Count: 150)

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw

For the complete list of entries, please click HERE