A Time for Celebration

Friday Fictioneers for April 11.

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 99 words.

Copyright dlovering

 

The faded garland that adorns the village square reminds me of flamenco dancers. Like our Andalusian ancestors, we survivors now live in the holes Mother Nature carved into the side of our mountain. It’s safer there, hidden from the metal birds that patrol the skies, waiting to snuff us out.

Hearing the roar of a plane above my  head, I flatten against the crumbling village church. The coast clears. I scramble over rubble to the ruins of my childhood home. Inside, I find Mother’s colorful dress. I stuff it into my knapsack and look forward to the evening’s entertainment.

Three on a Match

Friday Fictioneers, Friday, January 31

117 words

Johnny and I smoke cigarettes in the trenches. Joe doesn’t smoke but shares his rations. That way he won’t be the unlucky third. I heard Nazi boys aren’t allowed cigs. They think it’s bad for their health.

***

Knowing Dad kicked the habit after the war makes me feel less guilty about lighting up. This jungle blurs definitions of “friend” and “foe.” As chances of making it home alive narrow, I’ve become increasingly comfortable in the company of nicotine.

***

I light up, take a drag, insist on finishing before leaving base. Jamie teases me for picking up the habit in Iraq. I figure there’ll be time to quit later. It’s a family thing. The roadside bomb dictates otherwise.