Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SIGN. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
“Sure you won’t have a quick dip in the lake—it’ll purify, too, thanks to Lady Lake—before putting on my spare tunic?” Holding the garment in one hand, Ferah gazed at her brother, breathing through her mouth; he’d been picking off the remaining flaps of molting skin and holding them up to let the breeze catch and carry them away.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=GROUND. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
(Pause to author sipping cold coffee as she gazes, dismayed, at the piles of springtime paperwork to be filed, the folder holding pages of notes from workshopping another long short story/possible novella, and emails reminding her that edits are due for a group project. The heels of her hands are cold and she realizes she needs to drape the green wool shawl over her shoulders because no sunshine today; she will not regret the last several days out walking in sunshine and snowmelt in the February false Spring.)
***
Picture this instead: Ferah and Rockmouse have caught their breath and Rockmouse covers ground in split seconds to wrangle the other gnomes into some kind of order so that the Weber barbecue can be saved, oranges confiscated, and dinner be served up, while Ferah slips silently across pine needled ground to the shed and gently opens the door to find her brother Montay, exhausted and naked, lying on the floor in human form, bits of snakeskin stuck to his glistening skin (never shapeshift while molting; he is nauseated, too).
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=MARK. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
“I’m going to ask you to keep the secret…” said Ferah, as she and Rockmouse reached the top of the stairs that led up from the dock, adding “about Montay in the shed—I’ll tell you all when I’ve figured out what to do—but I need to know exactly what’s best, first.”
Panting, Rockmouse volleyed back, “I get that, but has it occurred to you that we’re here to help? I mean, how dangerous is Montay, anyhow?”
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=BRAND. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES.
After some time of sitting in sisterly fashion staring out at the big lake’s waves, and having found peace, if not answers to their dilemma, Rockmouse sighed and turned to Ferah.
January 29: PROMPT. Many Thanks to Cheryl for today’s prompt, as we take a moment or two each day this month to reflect on words that come from the community. And thanks to Linda G Hillfor getting us organized!
Watcher Doings Extra: Ferah
“Sittin’ on the dock of the bay, watchin’ the tide roll away…”
God knows she’d spent plenty of time staring out at the waves, the gulls bobbing like whitecaps let loose when the winds picked up on gray afternoons. When cold rain dimpled those same white-capped waves on stormy days, she’d stand in the treasures she’d found in the shed, the fisherman’s long jacket flapping around her long legs, a sou’wester tied under her chin, her feet bare and near frozen, but turned northward. The scene was different than what her deep-forested homeland offered up, and sometimes she thought she’d grown up in the wrong place, wrong time.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FISH. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Ferah felt the presence of her brother Montay in the shed, his vulnerable state as a snake in molt, and reached out instinctively to comfort; he may have been older than her, but he was still her baby brother.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=VOW. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Montay’s dream shifted from happy times with his sister, Ferah, and the vow they’d made to each other to always have each other’s back, no matter how much they fought.
What replaced the dream was more like a hallucination that shifted from bright colors of summer moonlight to a murky, distorted dream of he and Jimann together after Ferah had parted ways with him, and the verbal poison hidden in honeyed words, poured into the porches of his ears (as it were).
Valley of the Trolls 