Posts Tagged ‘snow’

Blue Light

Posted: March 24, 2021 in Uncategorized
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Momma said, “If you get lost, retrace your footprints.”

But Samuel’s tracks were jumbled among so many others he didn’t know where to run. And it was dark. Cold. And the man with the torch radiating sapphire-blue light was just…over…there.

During the chase, Samuel lost the boots Poppa grudgingly cobbled because Momma asked him to more than twenty times. Leather boots with star-embedded soles.

“You’ll leave impressions that are yours alone.” Momma smiled.

Fearing Poppa’s anger more than the man swinging the torch, Samuel planted his bare feet in the snow and studied the blue light drawing closer.

Today is Wednesday-Friday! Thanks, Rochelle, for posting this picture of a boxing gym. We at Friday Fictioneers only know that because there are about a half-dozen signs telling us so. Thanks, J. Hardy Carroll for providing the picture. Now, for my 100-word story. Thanks to all who read and comment on my submissions.

Photo by J Hardy Carroll

The background music to Tessa’s life was filled with squealing tires, shouting men and boxing gloves thump, thump, thumping skin.
The characters who peopled her world were drunk, bruised and mean.
Helmets, ropes, mats, and bags provided the never-changing scene work.
Only when it snowed did she feel safe for the men couldn’t drive the unplowed streets nor navigate the sidewalks.
They couldn’t come upstairs and tease her mother nor play Tessa’s violin so violently the strings snapped.
And she felt secure in the knowledge that no one would grab her wheelchair and shove her across the room.

The Busker

Posted: July 22, 2015 in Friday Fictioneers
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Goodness! Wednesday/Friday has rolled around again. Thanks to Dee, we have snow in July. My 101 word story was inspired by an article on NPR – so, thanks to them, too.

Billy slipped into his shoes, holes and all, and stepped outside. Ice crystals tickled his skin. Snow. Tightening his shabby coat across his ten-year-old chest, he shuffled to the train station. The soles of his feet registered the number of travelers scurrying across the wooden platform – more than usual. Perhaps this would be the day he could buy carrots and potatoes for his mother. Quickly retrieving five leather balls from his pocket, he began juggling – sensing the balls by the change in the air.
Billy heard a coin drop.
“Come away, Stephanie,” a woman said.
“But, Mamma, Blind Billy is back!”