We walked in groups in the sprawling forest that clung to the foot of the mountain. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and neighbours gathered for the hike, trampling over pine needles and tripping over knotted roots. Animals squirreled out of sight and up into higher branches to give way to the invading human swarm that was us. We picked pine cones from the musty ground and plucked out the nuts. Tasting sweet and tangy on our childish tongues. Grown ups carried baskets full of baked chicken, corn on the cob, green salads and garlicky bread. We stopped to eat at the stream that bubbled and whistled over pebbles and crawling roots.
Summer’s sun winked
through tree tops.
Smiles and chatter.
We were all together.
I remember a massive community hike in what I think was the Newlands forest in Cape Town, when I was about seven or eight if not younger. The hike ended in a picnic. I remember it as one of the most spontaneous and memorable occasions of my life, as it was a spur of the moment thing for me. I suppose that is what life seems like for kids who are unaware of the plans adults make and find themselves in surprising situations.
In my memory, I clearly remember a lot of pine trees and pine cones. They are not indigenous trees. Settlers to the region created pine plantations that still form a large part of the forest.
The featured image shows what the indigenous forest looks like, more lush and tropical-looking.
Shared with dVerse for their haibun Picnic prompt.
***Images from wikipedia
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
The waves crashed over one another, sounding like the distant rumbling roars of fifty lions. Boikanyo had never seen the sea.
“Bring me back some sea water in a bottle.” instructed his mother as she put him on the bus filled with his classmates. He barely heard her above the excited chatter.
Now, the teachers encouraged the children to sit in the shallows. Braver ones practiced their swimming strokes in deeper water. He inched closer to the water and yelped at the cold as it lapped over his feet. He couldn’t remember feeling so exhilarated ever before.
Having spent some of my childhood in a seaside town, I take it for granted that many people have never seen the sea. Sometimes cross-border school trips are the first encounters with the sea that children from landlocked countries such as Botswana, experience. Many first-timers say that it is the seemingly endless nature of the sea that captivates them. The way it seems to stretch on further than they can see. And I have to agree. More than any other body of water, the sea has a magic and a call like no other.
It is a popular belief that sea water cures many ailments. Often people collect it bottles to take back home.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Join in by cicking the frog below!
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Men wander dim avenues in search of
gin and Jezebel’s to escape
a personal hell.
Steel-toed workers rise with the moon,
shifting the night into the early morn.
A young mother, weary and bleary-eyed,
fingers running over the keyboard
chasing an elusive word count
Written for the dVerse prompt using the word rise or its derivative in a quadrille form.
**Image from https://art.alphacoders.com
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
The last thing he saw was the tree speeding towards him. He had misjudged the icy road completely. What he doesn’t remember is climbing out of his vehicle, finding his way to this little girl’s house where he now sat at her tiny table, watching her pour air into tiny teacups.
“You don’t believe me.” she said.
“There’s no way I’m your imaginary friend!”
She took him by the hand and led him outside. Together they walked in thick snow. She stopped, pirouetted and pointed to the ground, “Look.”
One set of girl-sized footprints were stamped in the snow.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. I hope this doesn’t go over too many heads!
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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Rina wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute she was configuring the new algorithms on the black hole transporter. The next there was a strange whirring sound and now she found herself here. A courtyard guarded by hedges that was definitely not her laboratory.
Springing up to her feet, she stumbled over the hem of her ballgown. Blood rushed to her head. A figure approached her from one of the many courtyard doors. Rina drew back in shock as her vision cleared and in front of her loomed a hairy beast in a dress coat.
“Belle, are you okay?”
This week’s flash fiction was inpsired by the famous black hole image led by Katherine Bouman and her team. The first black hole picture. Don’t ask me what a black hole is, I can’t tell you. The hazy effect of the prompt image made me think of time travel and disney princesses, Belle from Beauty and the beast in particular. So there it is…
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less.
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***Image from cnn.com
within you, within me
in our cells, in the atmosphere
reacts and interacts to paint
rainbows and spark lightning
flowing red in our veins and clear down rocky slopes
rising up invisibly into our skies
in cottony cloud collections
shifting resources from lakes to land
tumbling in drops towards earth
onto leaves and soil
and skin and fur
Dammed and bottled
but never contained
everywhere and in
a three dimensional manifestation
of the flowing
energy of Love
*Shared with dVerse prompt on Water.
***Image from kyhealthkids
Here, everything is preserved in time.
The landscape frozen
in its final expression.
Caves gape at some distant surprise
where cornflower skies kiss sapphire seas,
time after time.
Icicles drip over the cliff’s edge
like the cascading crystalline hair
of a slumbering, frozen
Ice Queen who cares for
naught but her beauty sleep.
And a tender glowing expression.
I’m just about getting this in before the link closes!
Written for dVerse Poets Pub open link night. I missed the chance to post on Amaya’s Cascade challenge earlier this week so getting a two in one. It’s not in the exact form, but learned a lot in the process!
Images from hideawayreport.com (1) and wildfoottravel.com (2)
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio
Sue sighed exasperatedly at her husband. “This is hardly romantic, Rakesh.”
He squinted at the tourist map of Venice, holding it under the streetlamp but his head kept blocking out the light casting a shadow over it. “Hmmm…”
“We’ve been wandering for hours. It is dark already. We are lost. Just admit it.”
Just then, loud shouts erupted from a nearby cafe, “Basta! Basta!”
“What do you think is happening over there?” Sue stretched her neck to glimpse some of the action.
“I’m not sure.” said Rakesh, scratching his beard. “But it sounds as if they want more pasta.”
**** Basta means “that’s enough” in Italian. Usually used in a firm tone to put a stop to something.
Okay, okay this was as cheesy as the mozarella on your pizza. Nonetheless, hope you enjoyed it. The prompt reminded me of when I wandered the dark calles of Venice once. Not a good idea.
Written for Friday fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the link to add your flash fiction and join the party.
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