(Photo by Kent Bonham)
The beggar crouched in his doorway, unmistakable once you knew it was there. He watched the crowds swell and dwindle with each market day, jingling his cup if any passersby looked his way. The children raced bicycles up the stone ramps where proud men once guided carts full of herbs, spices, dried figs, zaatar bread – all the smells he remembered from long ago.
He was old. Older than anyone imagined.
The hawkers cried out, “Fresh pomegranates! Strawberry marzipan! Finest rugs and throws!”, but always the beggar lifted one ear for the call that would surely come one day.
“New lamps for old!”
Today’s flash fiction is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, with photo prompt by Kent Bonham. Kent’s beautiful photo from Jerusalem turned me into a slightly more Arabic bent, and I was reminded of the tales of Aladdin. What might happen to an old trickster, waiting to regain his power? The Friday Fictioneers strive to produce a 100-word story each week, and you can read more of them right HERE.
- Photo copyright Rochelle Wisoff Fields
Light rained down upon the cheering crowds, each color exhaling with sensation. A boy and girl stood on the fringe of people. They ducked beneath a metal canopy with each star burst, avoiding the liquid light that coated the others.
“We have to get out now. Before the control effects kick in for the year.”
The girl shook a spark from the back of her hand, frowning. Yes, the annual medical conformity celebration. The spark burned and spread.
“Right…Just come out and see this last explosion.”
The boy looked up and his heart sank.
Many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting the Friday Fictioneers! Each Friday brings a new photo prompt and the challenge to write a story in just 100 words. Follow the group on FaceBook or via Twitter – #FridayFictioneers. Please visit more Fictioneers for some Friday Flash fun!
Photo copyright Rochelle Wisoff Fields
They had called her “Miss Muffet”, oh so many years ago. They thought it funny, her running away and crying behind the pump house, sucking on the swollen finger that would soon show the spider’s angry sting.
No one had considered her since. Not a single child commented on her sudden affinity for arachnids. No concerned mother queried her parents about her odd, luminous eyes, her preference for the dark.
She was grown now, with a husband. He labored for hours on the most delicate of artistic pieces – his gifts to the world. She liked to watch him work, thinking of their hundreds of children about to go off into the world. No doubt they would frighten many a child.
Many thanks to Madison Woods for hosting the Friday Fictioneers! Each Friday brings a new photo prompt and the challenge to write a story in just 100 words. Follow the group on FaceBook or via Twitter – #FridayFictioneers. Please visit more Fictioneers for some Friday Flash fun!