Resurrection in Turquoise

It’s been several weeks since I’ve had time to participate in Friday Fictioneers, but Rochelle knows the best way to get me back again–by using one of my photos as the prompt. If you’re new to this weekly challenge, the rules are simple: Writers from all over the globe are invited to compose a 100-word story based on the week’s photo prompt. Click here to read and play along.

My story this week is almost entirely autobiographical, but that’s all I’ll say on the topic for now.

Copyright Marie Gail Stratford

Copyright Marie Gail Stratford

Resurrection in Turquoise

Thirty years later, she remembers the pale green of hospital walls and her own small legs encased in plaster. Her dreams are haunted. Too often, she wakes with a start.

Thirty-five years later she takes a deep breath, submerges her face in the pale green water of an indoor pool. Three measured strokes, another breath. Three more strokes. A breath. The panic fades.

Forty years later, she sits in her office, glances at the blue-green logo on her business card. In her favorite color, she recognizes a bluer version of hospital green. She’s lived to see the resurrection of the turquoise butterfly.


I didn’t manage to play last week, but a little quiet time this evening brought a story to mind. I give you

Friday Fictioneers for May 9.

The challenge: Write a 100-word story inspired by the photo prompt.

Play along by writing your own, reading others and/or commenting on the flashes we fictioneers create.

My piece weighs in this week at exactly 100 words.


Copyright B.W. Beacham

Copyright B.W. Beacham


At age three, she saw a blue butterfly light on bicycle. All beauty was summed up in that single, exquisite creature.

Blue became her favorite color. The blues of nature captivated her imagination. The many shades of the expansive Kansas sky contained unrivaled depths. Always, they reminded her of her butterfly.

One afternoon, at the state fair, she wandered through exhibits in the 4-H building. Among the insect collections, a patch of blue caught her eye. Her butterfly, now lifeless, was pinned to a board, neatly labeled by genus and species. Suddenly, she understood what it meant to feel blue.