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Messenger, trickster or just a member of the wild? Use this week’s Friday image to give wing to your muse. 100 words is all that’s needed to complete your challenge.
I’ll start with a story:
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I call him Poe. He comes every sunset to taunt me.
He isn’t clever enough to intone “nevermore.” He’s just screeches and sometimes flicks pebbles at the window.
I don’t let him in. Not ever. I know what he’s after. Momma warned me. Daddy warned me. Never go out. Stay here, stay safe. I always listen to them. I have to. Or else.
“Caw!” yells Poe. “Let me in!” or maybe “Come out!”
Listen, listen, they say. Listen, listen, says Poe.
This time, I will open the window. And I’ll take care of Poe.
Like I took care of them.
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Now, it’s your turn.
[…] via Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge — Victory Girls Blog […]
Steve Fletcher says: Red Sparrow rubbed the back of his hand: nervous, skittish, afraid.
Scar-chin stuck his head up out of the slow ripening grain.
“You see it? The death bringer? Sitting on the fence post?”
Sparrow peeked up to see, “Why doesn’t it fly away? It shouldn’t be here. We should tell the Medicine Walker. Maybe he can drive it away.”
“Maybe, or maybe he’s the one that sent it. Let’s rush it. Drive it off.”
“And what if it turns the gimp eye on us? You tired of living, Scar?”
Red Sparrow rubbed the back of his hand: nervous, skittish, afraid.
Andrew says: I’ve been hiding on this ship for almost a year. If the Fanatic or his sons find me they’ll murder me on the spot. “God wants you dead just like all the rest,” they’d say.
There’s another stowaway though! I saw her yesterday among the birds. She was just gazing at them. I almost made contact, but we both ran when the Fanatic came down.
Today the ravens are missing. I think the Fanatic released them. They’re not coming back.
I’m going to communicate with the stowaway tonight. The ravens are a sign for the two of us. When the waters finally go down, we’ll sneak off this ship and find where the ravens went. We’ll re-start the world from there.
Well, all alone again! Cousin Max I’m sure is pursuing his usual flight paths in pursuit of his favorite meal of road kill, always disgusting to say the least! Cousin Nancy is perched on farmer browns’ finely bedecked scarecrow, her beloved, protecting it from those rascal straw thieves. The circus is in the next county, perhaps that friendly elephant I saw years ago, who shared some peanuts with me, a tasty treat, and wanted to share a secret. Rumors, that a special elephant attraction has our flock a buzz, Nancy, we should do some walking! Can elephants really, really fly?
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