We stand, looking up. The glass display is motionless, but it feels alive with whispers of hidden stories and memories. Like mine.
I’m a child, standing on the jungle’s edge in ankle-deep Amazon river water. The vicious sun bites our shoulders, and our feet seek refuge in the wet sand as schools of minnows swarm about. Into the water, we lower emptied florescent tube lightbulbs with farofa—yellow-brown like the Chihuly—collected in the unbroken end as bait. Soon the bulbs teem with the tiny fish. Dinner…
“Thoughts?”
“Extraordinary.” I muse. “It speaks a language I haven’t heard in ages.”
As always, many thanks for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers! Stop over and read a wonderful array of 100-word-fiction pieces based on this photo prompt!
Angela Writes... 
Beautifully done, Angela
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Neil, thank you!
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Angela, such creativity in your story. I feel like I was there.
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I’m so glad it transported you!
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Every moment holds hidden meaning waiting to be discovered.
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Ken, that is so true, and beautifully put! Thanks for reading!
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😃
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This reads like a true memory – well written.
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Liz, there may be a few strands of real memory wrapped in there ;).
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Wonderfully descriptive, well done!
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Keith, thank you!
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Oh this is lovely! Great use of memory and art that triggers those memories. Also terrific use of the modern day and flashbacks in such a short piece. Well done
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It’s amazing how art and certain images unexpectedly bring back memories we almost think we’ve forgotten. Thank you, Laurie, for your encouraging comment!
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wow! This is flash literature!
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I’m so glad you enjoyed my literary-ish take on this prompt!
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I love how you have allowed the art to provoke imagination and memories.
I wonder if the piranhas would be lurking in the Amazon rivers.
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James, thank you! And as for piranhas, my experience is yes. But they’re only dangerous during dry season when the water is low… 😉
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Oh yes, the feeling of having moved to a new life and catching only glimpses of the old one. Lovely. And feels very real, too.
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Thank you so much for your kind comment! I’ve moved a lot over the years and sometimes I catch a glimpse of something that transports me back.
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Dear Angela,
A lovely story well told.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Rochelle, thank you!
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Wonderful!
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That is such a blessed story that it brought tears of memory to my eyes as well. I remember “noodling” (fishing by hand without nets or poles) when I was a young girl to get food to eat. Usually, it was carb, but occasionally, I snagged a trout. Once, I got ahold of a catfish… That one tore my hands to bits… but he was soo good. These days, I can’t even stand the smell of fish without getting sick to my stomach. I tried to eat a bite of really nicely made salmon a few months ago, but couldn’t even get it past my tongue. Guess I’m just all fished out for this lifetime.
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Thank you so much for sharing, Bon Lee. Wow. I feel so honored to have connected with you over this story. Your words right here sound like a memoir in the making; I’ve been thinking about them these past couple days. My memory is based in reality, but I was fortunate enough that the fish wasn’t our only food. Again, thank you for sharing about your life <3.
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This is a wonderful story. You’ve covered so much in your hundred words. Atmosphere, character, a gripping sense of a bigger picture there between the lines.
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Margaret, thank you so much for your kind words!
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