Ameeruddin didn’t like movies. Newspapers, religious and political chatter entertained him enough. For Aisha, wash day blues took on a jealousy-fueled meaning when she discovered the ticket stubs in his jean’s pocket. Double tickets.
At dinner she suggested they go to watch the very same movie. He declined, feigning distinterest in superhero nonsense. “Besides, I’d rather take you to a romantic dinner at The Moghul.”
She smiled. Received his kiss. And later, cocooned in his post-coital embrace, willingly cast aside the mysterious movie companion in favour of hope and affection that was far easier for her tired heart to grasp.
Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the inspiring Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Submit to the link below and join this fun community of writers.
Cole didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea to escape the group, climb a palm tree and take his client’s call there. He could have gone to the men’s toilet or some other place behind closed doors.
Doubling as a secret private investigator was becoming difficult to manage. When he returned to the group, his friend (and business partner) was convinced he was securing some secret deal without his knowledge. And his suspicious wife demanded to see his phone. He smiled inwardly in resignation as they berated him. Who said it would be easy?
I’m a huge fan of the new Magnum PI series. In this case, my MC has just started his new secondary career and decided to do it in secret.
As soon as Amy Leigh saw the blindfold, she panicked. Voices collided around her and those tiny bells reverberated in her ear. Yet she allowed her teenage children to tie it around her head. They didn’t mean any harm. She tried focusing on the celebratory voices around her. But all she could hear was his voice. Husky. With bruised lust. Her jaw ached from gritting her teeth against the blood rushing through her body.
Finally, it loosened. Bright sunlight pierced her eyes. She blinked hard and found herself sat in front of a homemade chocolate cake.
“Happy Birthday, Mum!”
I have not been on the blogging scene for a few weeks. One of those times where life takes you for a spin in its new G-force machine. Looking forward to reconnecting with you all this week!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Submit to the link below and join in the literary fun.
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.
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!
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!
Click the frog to submit your own story and join us!
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…