Trying a twittering tale, prompted by Kat Myrman. A picture prompts up to 280 characters. This tale weighs in at 50 words and 275 characters with spaces.
She felt her ship had come in. She wondered at such fortune, finding a love to treasure, their fates cast together.
Their lives did not follow the course she had mapped, but she kept her disappointment corked. Her ship did not sail, but ran aground in a bottle.
“Still at it, are you, you and your inner child, crafting your little fairy houses?”
She smiled indulgently at her neighbor, the poor thing, how many times did she need to explain to her that the fairy houses and other constructions were for when her granddaughters came to visit, that they delighted in the small world play?
“Still, I must say, it’s very clever, what you have accomplished with scrap wood, sticks, and a hot-glue gun, very clever.”
Must you say it, she wondered, you say it every time you come by, poor daffy thing, and it isn’t meant to be clever or crafty, it’s just something to encourage magical play for the darling granddaughters, while they are still of an age for that kind of thing. Though she truly does take pleasure in the making of the miniatures, anticipating while she works the child-wisdom that would inform her granddaughters’ play, looking forward to listening in to their innocent invocations when they discovered the addition of the little wooden cross on the top of the main house.
Her neighbor let herself out, shaking her head, remembering that horrible night so many years ago when the accident claimed the only daughter along with the two little girls.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction and also for Six Sentence Stories at Unchartered Life under the Radar cue word “stick”.
Though raggedly recalled, legends persisted of a malevolent spirit that had once lingered about the lake. They had sat up late speculating on the tale and spinning their own stories of hauntings, spooking one another at the fringe of the campfire’s dancing glow. Now, paddling out on the sun sparkled water, their nighttime entertainment was forgotten as they eagerly explored each cove of the wooded lake.
Floating on a glassy plane of symmetry, their paddles at rest across the coamings of their kayaks, they marveled at the reflections on the surface and peered into the depths to see the inversion, treetops wavering in the blue sky in the water beneath them.
A sense of disembodiment came with the realization that they themselves had no reflection, nor a shadow. Fear caught them in a current of watery treetops and they drifted down, down, higher and higher into a bottomless liquid sky.
Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing prompt #32. Prose Challenge – Write a story in 150 words where a character sees their reflection and is surprised by what they find.
A long running show, somewhat predictable, though performed live; it could go off script, could still surprise the players as well as the audience, something she used to enjoy.
She was well respected for her roles, yet, despite her experience, her pre-show jitters were getting worse instead of better. Onstage, if the tempo slowed at all, she was aware of a persistent anxiety, always ready to prompt her from behind the curtain, whispering to her of her inadequacies.
“Good morning, how are you?”
She smiled. “Fine.”
She had gotten through her first act, had given a convincing performance.
Written for Carrot Ranch, December 7, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features a performance. Respond by December 12, 2017 to be included in the compilation (published December 13). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!