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.”

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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!