Writing

Crane

“Did you see the crane fall at the marina?”
“A crane fell in the marina? No! I haven’t heard of it. Oh my gosh!”
“Yeah, it was sort of sad. Funny too.”
“Funny??!!! How could you see funny on such a tragedy?! A crane falling is a huge deal! Did anyone got hurt?”
“Hurt??? Heck no! Well, maybe the crane, but it didn’t really look like… Pretty sturdy guy.”
“Are you serious? Not only you think it’s funny, but now you make jokes?”
“What are you talking about? It was just a bird falling after a bad take off flight. No big deal. It was not even flying high. No one was around it. Why does this need to be so tragic for you?”
“Wait a minute… A bird? A crane bird?”
“Yes. You know… Big thin legs, long curvy neck…”
“Oh! Hehe. Oops. Sorry, I thought it was a construction crane…”


This post was written in response to the FFfAW Challenge-Week of January 2, 2018 , with photo courtesy of J.S. Brand.
For more posts inspired by the picture, click the blue frog below.

 

Advertisements
Writing

Fiction: Butterfly heaven – compacted version

She was born in a flower pot at the city. Too much noise, too few flowers.

So, off she flew, away from the city.

But all she found was a desert.

Big red rocks, dangerous looking lizards, spiders, scorpions, snakes…. Not much water… Only a few low woody bushes….

She felt hungry, thirsty and afraid, and started to regret leaving the comfortable city.

Then, she sees a flowering succulent bush. She goes for it and finds the most delicious, thirst-quenching and satisfying meal.

She also finds cover, amongst leaves as pale as her wings.

Her own private Butterfly Heaven!


This post was originally written with 143 words, for a Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers almost a year ago, and inspired by a picture of a pale winged butterfly on a succulent bush, by TJ Paris.

butterfly

Then earlier this week, as I saw the Flash Fiction Challenge of the Carrot Ranch, with a prompt of a desert surprise, I couldn’t help remembering my little butterfly.

So instead of creating a new story, I took the extra challende proposed by Charli to try and reduce the size of my original story to 99 words, so it would fit the Flash Fiction Challenge requirements.

So this now it the results of this reducing effort.

 

 

Writing

Isolated

They lived in an isolated island. The rest of the world was very close, though, separated from their island by a narrow canal. In years past, some tried crossing the canal to the other side, but were swallowed alive by the sea creatures that populate the passage.

But it hasn’t been like this forever. Legend says that in years long gone the water was safe and the tide was low enough that passage between the lands was possible every day. But for many generations none of them have ever seen anything like that.

They tried bridges and boats, but nothing would survive the water.

One day the tide goes low again and they can see the legendary walkaway linking both pieces of land. They cross together, into the city, all happiness.

But at the last minute, she decides that the island is her home and turns her back to her fellow islanders. She stands there, frozen, deciding if her decision was right. Only a few minutes away from becoming the only inhabitant of the island…

 

photo-20160215084213932


This post was written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, with a photo prompt by TJ Paris.

To check other stories inspired by the same prompt, click the blur frog below:

 

Uncategorized, Writing

Gunslinger

He is crossing the desert after the man who killed his father. The crossing is though, but the need for revenge keeps him going.

After days in open desert, he finally reaches a village.

The story of the murder and his seek for revenge travelled faster than he did, though, and the townsfolk knew who he was as soon as he entered town. They’re a peaceful folk and afraid of gunslingers.

He came armed with 2 Colt pistols and an  incredible amount of hatred.

They all run to hide inside their houses, waiting for him to pass and go on with his business.

When he entered the town’s Saloon, all he saw was an empty room. Not a single soul to serve him.

He poured himself a pint of beer, grabbed some jerky and sat down to eat before continuing on his journey.

“Coward pricks! It’s not them I’m after…. Well, at least I get free beer.”

WildWestSaloon


This post was written in response to this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers , with photo prompt provided by myself, and contains 156 words.

The picture is of a saloon in Virginia City, Montana, which is an authentic wild west city, that had the buildings preserved to this date.
Today it’s more like a touristic attraction, but much more authentic than the “fabricated” ones.
The guys from our party all sat down and ordered beer.
They didn’t have jerky, though, just peanuts. And the shells were supposed to go to the floor. I guess it added to the spirit of the place. ;o)

 

Gunslinger is a word I learned recently. Having had watched the wild west movies all in  Portuguese as a child, I simply didn’t know the English word, until last year when I started reading The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. And that’s what inspired the crossing the desert image

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”
– Stephen King

To see other stories inspired by the same prompt,  click the blue frog below. 

Writing

Rebirth

She wasn’t really superstitious. Or maybe she was, just never admitted.

The kind of person that follows the Spanish saying “Yo no creo en Brujas, pero que las hay, las hay”. Like she didn’t believe in ghosts, but would not put her feet on a cemetery at night.

She graduated on Economic studies and worked for a financial institution.

She hated the job.

One day, in spite of her family not supporting her, in spite of her husband’s angst of a lower household income, in spite of her eternal fear of needles, she quits her job and signs up in medical school.

Her very first class was on a lab with a skeleton so they could study the human body’s bone system.

That skeleton reminded her of the image in the Death card of her grandma’s tarot deck.

She smiled. The death card means the end of a phase and subsequent rebirth. That was it! She was going to be a doctor!

The skeleton smiled back. Pero que las hay, las hay!

rebirth


This post was written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, with photo prompt from pixabay, depicting a skeleton on a lab.

skeleton

The tarot card image I use above is also a public domain image, taken from Wikipedia.

“Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay las hay”, translates as “I don’t believe in witches, but they do exist”. 😉

Writing

Berkeley to Bahia

It was the year of his 70th birthday and he had a dream. To take the bike and some friends and ride from the place where he was living, Berkeley, CA USA, to the place where he was born and raised, Salvador, BA Brasil.

He was a capoeira mestre and had several pupils or peer mestres who were up to the challenge.

On their way they would be visiting other capoeira groups and documenting it all. Then, the money raised from the media created on their journey would go to project Kirimurê, helping kids in need in Bahia.

On September 1st, 2013, they started their 1-year-long bike ride from the United States towards Brasil. It was a trip of a lifetime!

b2b


 

This post was written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, that this week has a prompt from pixabay.

Although the challenge is for fiction, there is nothing fictional about my story. The bike ride did happen, and one of my friends was part of the team.

You can see their website here: http://b2bjogacapoeira.com/

To see other stories inspired by the same prompt, click the blue frog below:


Writing

Firefly

It was the night before the vernal equinox.
The wood fairies were busy in wrapping up winter and getting everything ready for spring.

In the bark of the trees, pupae are about to hatch, just in time for the equinox festival.

Now, the day has come!
Night and day have the same length and life is about to sprout everywhere with the start of spring.

The fairies did their job and will now enjoy the big festival.

Flower and leaves buds start to open.
Little and big animals wake up from hibernation.
Birds fly back home.
And, as soon as the day becomes night and dark falls upon the earth, fireflies of every color emerge from their pupae and light up the trees in a breathtaking festival of lights, getting ready for life as adults and the love season.

treeoflights


This post was written in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, with photo prompt from pixabay.com, and contains 139 words.

To see other stories inspired by the same picture, click the blue frog below.