“Tonite, we see the Watchers return.” Ahote stands at the base of News Rock as the Sun approaches the far ridge.
“God, this is so cool. Do you guys come here every year?” Billy looks at hibs Hopi friend in his embroidered jacket.
“It’s based on lunar cycles. My people would come up in large groups years ago.” Ahote scans the horizon as he speaks “We can not come alone. When we see them, say nothing and take no pictures.”
“Oh..Ok. I didn’t know.” Billy looks about the sky.
A flash of light beams toward them. Three silver figures emerge underneath the light.
“Th..th…They” Billy points and his arm waves.
“Shhh!” Ahote watches his friends come closer.
“But they are..” Billy yells and takes off.
“White people are so easy.” Ahote laughs.
Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writers, details are available at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/fffaw-challenge-week-of-november-14-2017/
Puff looks over at HR.
“Remember the good ole days…” He pauses turning his head to the sky “We could breath fire and chase a bad child or two.”
“Video games. That’s the problem.” HR Puff’n’stuff looks at his friend “Violence has replaced getting eaten by mystical creatures. Sad. Really sad.”
Puff let’s loose a terrific flame followed by a smoke cloud.
“Knock it off over there!” HR furrows his brows. “They’ll can us for sure. You know open flames are dangerous!”
“Imagination was the key to great adventures.” Puff looks surprised at his friend. “Are we left to be rationalize as irreverent?”
“How’s that rent over in Honalee getting paid?” HR rolls his eyes.
My sly smile blossoms. I have denied the child’s fate. An anxiety closet with a tapestry weaver in decline will soon be renting somewhere else.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by yarnspinnerr. Thank you yarnspinnerr!
“There has been strange lights in the woods for the best part of a week. Jeb says there’s a tree trunk made of concrete. It’s time we look it over.” I look over at Rodney. His black eyes hold my fast in my chair.
“We been out there before. Same lights…things get funny out there in them woods.” Rodney uses the back of his hand to rest his bearded chin his arm angles to the arm of the chair. “You ought to think this through.”
His words flood back night images of dancing lights and unworldy sounds. We always promised never to talk about what happened. Neither of us could put enough pieces together to make sense of it all any way.
“But they are tiny. We seen them. If we just smash down the nest…” my words float across a dead silence. “It’ll be different..this time.”
“Well, that Gulliver shit didn’t work last time! I got my double barrel sitting right here.” Rodney pats the but of the wooden end of his shotgun.
“Its our woods! It ain’t right to let them build and take over it.” My defiant streak fights my lack of memory from last time.
199 words (borrowing from short pieces 😉)
1. lockjaw [spasm of the jaw muscles, causing the mouth to remain tightly closed, typically as a symptom of tetanus|an accent associated with the upper class of the northeastern United States, characterized by a supposed lack of movement of the mouth and jaw]
3. adjuration[an earnest request; entreaty|a solemn or desperate urging or counseling]
4. laconic [(of a person, speech, or style of writing) using very few words| brief, terse, succinct]
6. spare key
7. swan song [a person’s final public performance or professional activity before retirement]
8. mellisonant [containing or constituting or characterized by pleasing melody]
The spare key to my mind clicked at the wrong time. I was trapped with lock jaw uttering my mellisonant swan song to an ambiguous costumed witch. My canter was an electric shock posturing me as a laconic dope. Her turning away left me looking in need of adjuration.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dorothy. Thank you Dorothy!
“All these people. They just keep coming and coming.” Dennis looks down Temple Street.
His eyes follow his fellow worshippers across the tide of cars. Their smiles tiny beacons of holy light. He sees a child. Bolding running along racing the cars as they crawl by.
“When I was his age…there was traffic going both ways on the street. No waiting to pass across. No sounds of brakes squealing. No car horns trying to make go so much faster.” Dennis sighs.
His mind slows briefly. He is here to pray afterall. A little grace on his own part the body tells his restless mind. He thinks of the miracles upon his faith was built. This stream of faith pushing the scene from his current reality.
A soft beep of a horn rattles him.
A smiling face waves a hand to allow him passage in front of her. The next car halts and so does the third. The path to his enlightenment is clear.
2. irregular borders
3. woodcuts [Woodcut is a relief printing technique in printmaking. An artist carves an image into the surface of a block of wood—typically with gouges—leaving the printing parts level with the surface while removing the non-printing parts.]
6. rule of thumb [a broadly accurate guide or principle, based on experience or practice rather than theory.]
7. calculus [ the branch of mathematics that deals with the finding and properties of derivatives and integrals of functions, by methods originally based on the summation of infinitesimal differences. The two main types are differential calculus and integral calculus|| a particular method or system of calculation or reasoning||a concretion of minerals formed within the body, especially in the kidney or gallbladder.]
10. weather vane
11. savory [(of food) belonging to the category that is salty or spicy rather than sweet || having an appetizing taste or smell ||morally wholesome or acceptable.]
“The rule of thumb is no martini order skull be more difficult than calculus.” I explain to the bar maid.
Her glowing smile is a puzzle. Savory lips part as I spy the constellations in her eyes.
“How about our legendary martini?” she starts to move as if my choice had been made.
My eyes follow the dress made to look of woodcuts with irregular borders. I really don’t notice this color.
Her head turns back to catch my gaze.
Not weather vane needed to see a cold front moving toward me.