Posts Tagged ‘shells’

Paper Dreams

Posted: January 9, 2019 in Friday Fictioneers
Tags: , , , ,

Wednesday/Friday is here again. Thanks, Rochelle, for posting such a pretty picture provided by Priya Bajpal. My stab at writing a 100-word story follows.

photo by Priya Bajpal

They suggested Anya write wishes on paper and put them in a jar
saying this small action would provide hope.
Selecting the color and texture of the paper
was more difficult than knowing her wishes.
Food. Water. Freedom from pain.
Small comforts. Clean sheets. Crisp gowns.

Every day Anya slipped a wish into her crystalline jar
then nestled a polished shell on top
because Father told her shells carried
luck within their curls and swales.

Skeleton thin, and calling
for water, water, water,
Mother died writhing in pain.
Anya dropped a match in the center of her wishes.

 

Photo by Sandra Crook

Souls come to me. Some blacker than the inside of midnight, others so bright they dim the light of stars.
From the beginning of time, we each stored them in the manner we saw fit.

Father kept souls in driftwood. Grandfather stored them inside tiny grains of sand.
Feathers. Leaves. Moss.
Each generation has a plan better than the last.

I chose shells, for they come in different shapes and sizes.
Small ones for babies, spiked ones for mean old men.
Sadly it ends here. There is no next generation.
I sweep up my collection and throw it into the sea.

 

It’s Wednesday – Friday again! Doug, thanks for this picture. There’s so much going on it was difficult to decide what to write about. Most of all it made me want to go to a warm beach and collect flotsam and jetsam that has floated up on the sand. Thanks, Rochelle, for keeping our merry band of writers on our toes.

Time seemed jumbled – years piled upon years.
People from all over the world visited Toyashi,
bringing shells, beads, bottles, rocks.
Payment was not important.
In return he healed their wounds
with elixirs he himself created.

He loved many who had come,
stayed, then died.

At first the years arrived like storms
full of laughter and dancing.
Later they resembled warm summer days
he wanted to last forever.
Now they are cold and never ending.
Like Toyashi.

The one thing people asked for –
knew he had –
was the secret to eternal life.
That elixir Toyashi would not share
and wished he’d never found.