Fairy Ring

This is my response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt for March 6. The challenge is to 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. The photo prompt this week comes from fellow blogger Erin Leary.  My piece this week weighs in at exactly 100 words.

Copyright Erin Leary

Copyright Erin Leary

First, an author’s note: This story is the continuation of a Friday Fictioneers response I wrote back in December. The two stories stand alone, but you can read the other by clicking here.

Fairy Ring

By the time the circle of mushrooms appeared in the forest beyond the cliffs where Trident, the first three-eyed human child, lived, local inhabitants had forgotten all the stories about elves and fairies. Bad luck had taken on new, less ephemeral forms, and the wrong kind of mushrooms could easily be one of those forms.

When Trident located the mushrooms, his mother, Sonora, hesitated. A wrong choice could be fatal. Trident popped one into his mouth. “Tastes good,” he shrugged. Sonora sighed and watched him closely for several hours before relenting. That ring of fungi would make a delicious stew.

Want to know more about fairy rings? Click HERE.

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Evolution

This is my response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt for December 12. The challenge is to 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. The photo prompt this week comes from Sandra Crook.  My piece this week weighs in at 99 words.

Copyright Sandra Crook

Copyright Sandra Crook

Evolution

Everything changes over time. Given enough time, the changes can be radical.

These thoughts drift through Sonora’s mind as she steps from her cliff-side dwelling to view the rising water. Large rodents, descendants of something her great grandmother called a “beaver,” were building downstream. The beavers had used felled trees to create dams. These new creatures use bits of plastic, rocks, and metal as well as scraps of wood.

A thin cry coaxes Sonora back into her home. She bends over the cradle, caresses her baby’s face. Picking him up, she admires the three violet eyes blinking at her.