Feeling it

Since she was a little child, she enjoyed feeling the wind hit her face. Any breeze or stronger wind, she’d run outside, stretch her arms and open up her chest in order to feel the moving air touching her skin, making her hair dance, cleansing her.

Then one day, out of a sudden she realized she couldn’t feel it anymore. How could this be happening?

She decided to put up wind mills, and turbines, and chimes. She was desperate, so she kept adding stuff in her backyard that could help her feel the wind again.

She could see it now. And hear it too. But still no feeling it on her face.

One day, a hurricane came. She didn’t think twice. As soon as the deadly winds hit her house, she went outside and spread her arms again to receive it. She floated away, flying freely and happily for finally being able to feel the wind again.

No one ever saw her again, but now every time the wind picks up speed she’s remembered as the wind girl, and her tale is told while people snuggle safely inside.

This post was written in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction – December 31st 2017, with photo courtesy of Jules Paige.
For more posts inspired by the picture, click the blue frog below.

Portuguese version: Sentindo

Brother’s love?

They were brothers, and as brothers they kind of love each other.

But they also had their differences, and sometimes those differences would be so big that the love seemed more like hatred for those who would see them arguing.

One day they had a disagreement. One of the big ones. It was so, so, so big that they actually engaged on a fight. A physical one.

I can’t remember the reason for such a fight, but I do remember it was an ugly one.

Uyir was a bit drunken. Maybe coming from one of his crazy parties. Groi was chilling out at home, as he always did.

Then something stirred up such a wild rage in Uyir, that he went after Groi. Groi tried reasoning, but it was no use. He didn’t want to fight so he said something neutral and turned his back.

That’s when it happened.

Uyir, pulled his little brother’s shoulder so the boy would turn, then hit him right on his face.

At that very moment, his hand turned to stone, and broke in half.

Groi had a broken teeth but was still in human format and, once again, turned his back and went away…


This post was written in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction – November 6th 2016.

To see more entries, click the blue frog icon below.


My drops of tears I’ll turn to sparks of fire

He hated Shakespeare! No one ever knew why, but he did, indeed.

Maybe it was the fact that he had to study all of those plays and sonnets at such a tender age. With the thou’s and thy’s and all those fancy old words that no one speaks anymore.

Then, when he went to drama school, that was all they wanted to play. He played Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet…

He couldn’t stand it anymore!

But after school, finding a real work was really hard. He started doing small jobs here and there while waiting for the big opportunity to act on a real play.

The invitation has finally come!

But, whadaheck… He was being called to play Queen Katherine in Henry VIII play, at the Globe.

Really? Shakespeare? And a woman character???!!!

He really needed the money, so he took the job, with tears in his eyes.

Opening night, house is full.

Then, when they got to Act II, Scene 4, he proceeded with the famous quote:

“My drops of tears I’ll turn to sparks of fire.”

And so he seems to have done. As soon as he said the verse, the theater burst into flames.


This post was written in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction, with the photo prompt that pictures the Globe Theater in London.

According to Wikipedia, “The Globe Theatre was a theatre in London associated with William Shakespeare. It was built in 1599 by Shakespeare’s playing company, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, on land owned by Thomas Brend and inherited by his son, Nicholas Brend and grandson Sir Matthew Brend, and was destroyed by fire on 29 June 1613. A second Globe Theatre was built on the same site by June 1614 and closed in 1642.

A modern reconstruction of the Globe, named “Shakespeare’s Globe”, opened in 1997 approximately 750 feet (230 m) from the site of the original theatre.”

And that’s the one portrayed here and where my story takes place… 

Also, at Shakespeare’s time, all actors in a play were males, even the ones representing the female characters.

To check other stories inspired by the same picture, click the blue frog below:

Mrs. Bayle

It was a small apartment building. 3 floors, 2 apartments on each.

Mrs. Bayle has been there since forever, the oldest tenant in the building.

She was the one who kept the flowers hanging at the porch. The building was not a masterpiece of architecture, all white, old, non-attractive. She kept the flowers to beautify it a bit. Also so that the lion by the door would feel more at home, with some nature around it.

Most of the other tenants liked it and appreciated Mrs. Bayle for that. Mr. Moody didn’t, claiming it took too much space from the entrance. But she never failed to keep the flowers no matter what he would say.

Mrs. Bayle was old and her body started to fail her. One morning, she didn’t wake up, and left our world to beautify her afterlife.

Without her, the flowers slowly wilted and died. Mr. Moody made sure to get rid of it as soon as he noticed they were dead.

It was a sunny day and some people say it was bird droppings, or water that was sprinkled by a passing car cleaning the windshield. But it was actually tears in the lions face. He was the one who missed Mrs. Bayle the most.


This post was written in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction of this week, and contains 207 words.

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

Catching fire

“Mommy, mommy, look! The tree and bushes are catching fire! Look, they’re all yellow and red and orange.”

“Oh, sweetie-pie, that’s not fire, it’s the leaves changing color for autumn.”

“Changing color?”

“Well, every year we have 4 seasons. Remember Winter? We went skiing and built a snowmen?”

“Yeah, it was cold!”

“In Winter there were barely any leaves. Then Spring brought them back. With Summer, the heat of the sun made them gold. Now, they’ll crumble and fall again for Winter.”

“So they ARE burning?”

“Yeah… when you put it like that, they are indeed burning! Just not catching fire.”

This post was written in response to 2 challenges, that had similar picture prompts this week, and contains 100 words.

100WCGU, with the photo prompt below:


And Sunday Photo Fiction, with the picture:



To see other stories inspired by this picture, click the blue frog below:


The picture that has actually inspired me for this text was the one for 100WCGU.
The initial idea I had for the Sunday Photo Fiction was different, so I may choose to write another piece for those, if I find the time this week.


Edible pothole

“Hey Martha, they are holding the doughnut contest again this year. How about we participate this time? I even got an idea of how to make it.”

“That’s cool. Yeah, let’s do it. What’s your idea?”

“A pothole doughnut!”


“Yeah, we can make a big, big doughnut, then make it look like a street pothole.”

“But how are we going to accomplish that?”

“Well… we would have to have something to play as pebbles… maybe covered almonds?”

“Huh. Almonds as pebbles may work. But streets are dirty too…”

“For dirt some graham crumbs?”

“Hum… I don’t know… how do we make them gray? Streets are grayish…”

“Food coloring!”


At the day of the contest, Martha and Silvia arrive with a huge tray, and place it at the table. They also bring a panel of cars and street lights to go behind their doughnut at the table.

The judges get a bit confused by the not-so-appealing looks of the treat, but still amazed with the ladies’ creativity.

And the taste…. Hummmmm…. So deliciously good!

They come back home with the big prize and a huge proud smile on their faces.


This post was written in response to this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge.
I must admit I think I could have done better, but for whatever reason I had the doughnut idea and wanted to use it (it does look like a doughnut hole, right? so nicely round…).
Hope you enjoy.

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