Chasing Destiny

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“If you come back now, Mordow will forgive everything.” Samson called to her, his subordinates blocking the alley entrance behind him.

Reya’s heart squeezed at the sight of him. “You don’t know who they really are. Come with me, Sam.”

She thought she saw a flash in his eyes. Of love. “I’m not a traitor.”

“Your choice.” She scrambled over the slippery wall, landing in the piazza, crowded with tourists braving the rain. A sea of umbrellas spilled before her. She ran to the thickest part and looked back to see Samson standing on top of the wall. Searching hopelessly.

100 words

Trying to squeeze in my flash fiction for this week. Hope you all enjoy it. My story reflects my enduring search for Truth and Love. Which to me are the same thing. Truth exists despite lies, denial. So does Love. More than that, I’m learning that love shines a light on the truth. 

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for this week’s prompt. Such an awesome image, that I was struck with writer’s block for once. 

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.

Looks like we’re in Europe this week for my story. I experienced those crowded piazzas on a solo trip to Italy a few years ago. Awesome vibe. Amazing sights.

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A woman I met, took this photo of me in front of Basilica Di San Marco (Saint Mark’s Cathedral).

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Song of Zulaikha

I turned to God to escape you.
To cure what I perceived was an illness of my heart
And in that turning to God
I saw your name
Surrounded by praises of His name
In a faithful song of fate and destiny
And what I thought was an escape,
Became an exit from a door of my mind
Into a spiritual realm of my heart,
And His heart
Deeply entangled with you.
The three of us entwined in a heartaching love
So painful that I broke.
And continue to break
In waves of pain and joy
Causing me to question who am I
And where do I truly belong

I kept company with Rumi, Shams and Al-Ghazzali
But still it brought me back to you
Through Him

Just like Shams heard Rumi’s name,
So I saw your name attached to His.
Shams understood and followed
Whereas I followed but do not understand

All I know is I am forever changed
Stripped bare to my soul
And all I see is this longing for you
That is entwined with Him

There is no escape
For if I turn to God in utterance of faith
I see you too

*****

Based on stories of divine love popularised by Rumi and Shams. And the lesser known legend of Zulaikha, the King’s wife, who fell hopelessly in love with the Prophet Yusuf. The legend has it that her love for Yusuf led her to a more divine love for God. And that her love for Yusuf was a veil that hid the divine love

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Unrequited love

PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior

 

Amarah tore her eyes away from David’s face. Focus! She shook fantasy images out of her head. Under the lamplight they studied the crime scene photo’s for the hundredth time.

“We’re missing something.” David pondered.

Reciprocation.

“The victim was alone. Husband’s alibi is watertight.”

“From all those tissues and drinks, it looks like she was upset.”

“We know they argued.”

“Yeah, still..” Amarah stared at the photo. Her intuition poked at something. She picked up the photo of the body. No lipstick. “There’s lipstick on some of those cigarette butts.”

“So?”

“Another woman was there that night. An unidentified woman.”

100 words

 

Wowee! I struggled with this week’s prompt. Wrote one story, deleted the whole thing. After repetitive attempts, this is the final piece. If it’s not up to scratch, I may have over-thought everything. What an awesome prompt, (courtesy of Yvette Prior) it really conjured up so many possibilities that it was difficult to settle on just one.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less.

 

 

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I put my heart into a bottle

I put my heart into a bottle

stuffed it away. Out of me. Out of sight.

I’d grown weary of it’s whispers

nagging me through my busy hours.

It was getting harder to focus on all I needed to,

on who I needed to be

with it’s tales of dreams and hopes long forgotten,

long abandoned at the fork in the road

way back when such things were still possible.

No, it can’t be. Can’t ever be. Wont be. Not for me.

Silly stories, silly heart

Time to grow up.

 

At the edge of the cliff I threw the bottle into the ocean

Watched as the tides carried it away

over the horizon.

That night as I slept, the whispers came louder still

Woke up in a cold sweat feeling the hole in my chest

Empty and void.

Yet tales of better tomorrows, hopes renewed

swirled all around me.

See I had not realised that I could abandon my heart

But my heart would never abandon me.

 

Not that kind of woman

 

 

Empty bed in the morning

Loneliness sleeps beside me in the space you left behind

Coffee and breakfast for one

Conversation echoes from memories playing like a movie in my mind

 

Sunlight streams through the window

Touching my skin but it leaves me cold and restless

because I keep wondering

How did I get here? Where did it all go wrong?

Throw my coffee down the drain

along

with all thoughts of you

 

I want to give up, call it a day

On this disappointment we call life

Is there someone that can help me?

Help me to get back up

But I’m not that kind of woman

Giving up is not something I’m good at

Maybe it’s enough to keep me going

Going in the dark

 

The nights are way too long

There ain’t enough movies to distract myself from calling you

Fall asleep to the sounds of Hollywood

I slept in your arms hearing you breathe, listening to every heartbeat

 

I want to run back to where I used to belong

Comfortable familiarity like a 90s sitcom

Let it be, I must move on,

better things ahead,

that’s where I belong

 

I wont give up, wont call it a day

On this disappointment we call life

Is there someone that can help me?

Help me to get back up

See I’m not that kind of woman

Giving up is not something I’m good at

Maybe it’s enough to keep me going

Going in the dark

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Thoughts of a dying dream

I was born with you, the day of your birth,

in your awakening

Out of those moments of joy bursting with light.

I stood by you, through years of your longing,

in your flagellation

Through those moments of pain echoing with the truth.

 

We have always been one, though you split us in two

Denied me, seeking fulfilment from others besides me.

Embarrassed, you walked away

I saw you look back eyes dark with regret.

You had no sense to know you could never forget.

 

Once in your mid-life, I sent you flowers, a fragrant bouquet

Hoping to remind you of what we had, and all the missed hours.

You read the note, threw it in the bin

Hid in the bedroom and found you could not hide from what was within.

That night, in the yellow of the porch light, you looked up at the stars

wondering, always wondering.

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And here we are, together still at the end of your life.

Yes I’m still here, beside you, within you

And I bloom in your chest, with a lot of regret.

You tell me you’re sorry, you don’t know what happened

I say nothing, just let you speak, hear your voice cracking.

 

The pain in your voice is much for me to bear.

I know I tried to tell you over the years

that for you to truly live, both of us need to have life.

 

But I will die with you, the world never knowing who I am

More tragic than this, is the self you hid from the world.

All I could do was show myself to you

Hoping you would find your courage.

Something you could never do.

 

Oh the life we could have lived!

The possibilities we could have explored!

 

It is harder for me still, to question my own existence

The dream that never could and never will,

be more than a thought in your head

A fledgling hope that never took flight.

Why was I here? It makes no sense.

 

Then I look in your eyes,

moments before the light in them goes out,

and I see the same questions stirring about.

 

****

Inspired by an article I read on the regrets of the dying. Unfulfilled dreams were one of the biggest regrets.

There is something about unfulfilled dreams, hopes and desires that cause us so much pain. Most of it seems to go against logic and reason and it takes courage to follow them.

Undeniably, dreams are a part of who we are. To fulfil them is to fulfil ourselves. To give them life, is to give us a life that feels authentic, and has a buzz to it that makes us feel very much alive.

Need a better title. It is a WIP. Suggestions welcome!

Here’s to your dreams 🙂

 

 

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Desert dawn

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

“C’mon! It will be worth it.”

“This was a bad idea, Dawn.”

“Oh stop your moaning. Just a few more steps.”

Robert screwed up his eyes against the morning sun, “It’s at least half a kilometre up! You’re going to kill me.”

Dawn trod easily over the rocks. Behind her, he watched the muscles flex in her calves.

At the top of the hill they looked out across the spreading desert glowing a pinkish-orange from the rising sun.

“What did I tell you? Isn’t it beautiful?”

Watching her face, his breath caught by the wind, he whispered, “It sure is.”

100 words

Written for Friday Ficitioneers where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction.

Thanks to Jan Wayne Fields for providing this week’s prompt.

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Bonfire

Playing around with a song idea. It’s half done, and the idea is mostly there. But just wanted to hit that publish button and put something out there.

*********

 

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I set myself on fire to keep you warm

You say that you love me

but you can’t see me burn

 

Bonfire on the beach beneath a sky full of stars

And I could do it all night babe, for your smile

It’s just that through the smoke, the stars dim for me

So I begin to wonder about Life’s possibilities

 

Chorus

Love that invites to another world

where fires burn to light the way

and when i arrive it feels like coming home,

Coming home to stay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday lunch

 

She leaned back in the chair, the cold wrought iron pressing into her back. Through her grief a smile rose to her mouth. Countless Sunday lunches, warm garlic breads and ice cold lemonades. She could almost hear the chatter, the laughter ringing around the table. Young and old.

A hand touched her shoulder, she didn’t have to look to know it was her brother, Barry.

“C’mon sis, I’ll make you some tea. Let’s go inside.”

She stood up and took one last look at the chair where Dad always sat. Sunday lunch would not be the same without him.

99 words

Hooray! My picture was chosen for this week’s flash fiction, and I couldn’t be more thrilled! Thank you, group leader, Rochelle!!!!I took this picture while on holiday, and the lodge I was staying at had a sombre air about it. Later I heard from hotel the hotel staff that the father of the family-run business had just passed away. So naturally their story came to mind.

I apologise for not commenting  much on last week’s flash fiction. Life has thrown me major life changes which has given me the most confusing mix of incredible joy and sadness at the same time. I promise to double my efforts this week and read as many of this week’s posts as I can.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the most talented artist and writer, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog icon to read more awesome flash fiction by more great writers. Make coffee, sit back and enjoy 30 second stories.

 

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Meet me in the land of dreams

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

We sat in the gardens of an ancient ruins, side by side. Laughing with the ghost of my mother. She looked young like me, but felt older.  Behind us the shrubbery crawled over an abandoned castle, most of it gone. What stood was crumbling.  Above us thick green canopies shaded us.

“When will we meet again?” I asked her, taking note how black her hair was, without the strands of grey that sprouted when she was still with us.

She offered me only a knowing smile as her answer.

Of course. I wasn’t permitted to the knowledge of the unseen.

100 words

My mother passed away two years ago. Yet I never feel as if she is gone. I still feel her overbearing, sometimes annoying, presence with me. (This was really how our relationship was! No angelic talk here 🙂 )

And when I dream of her, it feels as if I’m really seeing her, and in the dream I’m aware she has passed on.

There have been many dreams of her. The year she died, she came into one of my dreams on the eve of my birthday and I hugged her in delight, knowing she was not with us.

The above story is part of one of the dreams I had of her, where there was an abandoned castle behind us.

Proudly written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by our leading writer, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less! Click the frog icon to read more flash fiction by other awesome writers.

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