Still, Alive

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!

The Memento

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The Memento 

He kept it? After all these years? Yes, it’s unmistakable. On that shelf.

In the glass I see us again: Magic colors in the night sky, white steps that crack and crunch, snowflakes melting in our warm breath. 

Oh, the wonderful power of memories, stored anywhere, hidden in plain sight, wrapped mysteriously around innocuous things—a sound; a color; a tower of silica sand, molten, cooled, frozen in time. 

I lift the memento, cautiously, trying not to tremble. “This looks special.” 

“Isn’t it pretty?” He shrugged. “I can’t for the life of me remember where I got it.”


As always, many thanks for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers! Stop over and read more 100-word-fiction pieces based on this photo prompt!