This Flash Fiction is written in response to the seventh edition of Fiction Monday – word prompt ‘BEWARE’ and the below picture prompt – hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell. 🙂
The ash tree which stood majestically right outside Dana’s window showed signs of the impending change of season. In a few weeks, the tree would put on the prettiest shades of yellow and red, and soon will shed leaves revealing the branches in minimal covering.
She wondered if the tree felt somewhat shy in displaying its tentacles out in the open like that! Would it then crave for the company of leaves that blanketed the branches now, like she was craving for her favorite pals?
But then baring its soul is just a one season phenomenon for the tree. Unlike her, who was forced to coop inside her house since Spring brought new buds. The pandemic stopped her from visiting her favorite place, the library.
This new normal was stretching from season to season like the frigid limbs of a leafless tree extend with uncertainty as if it is frozen in time.
Dana’s heart ached to get back to the corridors of the library that held bookshelves carrying rows of books dear to her. She and her beloved companions would be separated for how many more seasons, who knew!
This Flash Fiction is written in response to the fourth edition of Fiction Monday – word prompt ‘SEASON’ and the above picture prompt – hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell. 🙂
the road ahead glistening with rays of hope
this too, a slice of life!
Life isn’t always stitched with grief and sorrows. There are these beautiful moments that grace our solemn days making them a tad enticing. And often these little moments of joy appear in the midst of our journey just like that. They can be overlooked as we hurry to our destination or can be tucked in our memory reservoir for another day as a priceless moment of relish.
The blank page stared at him. It could very well be accepted as a sign to end his writing career before it even started. He sighed. A blank page is also a sign to write something, he decided. That was the beginning of his writing career.