The stream

The water darts around my outstretched toes, cool and soft. It’s not one of those languid streams, but a playful one. Sometimes it scurries around the rocks, sometimes it gently sweeps over, and every now and then it decides to make a dash and a splash, gurgling and hissing. I quickly pull my foot out. It’s hard to say how deep the stream is, and the stones are smooth and slippery. Further down is a quick little drop, as if gravity were snatching the waters into its bowels and letting out a satisfied burp and beyond that a joyful frothy pool. The air is permeated by the scent of moss and lichens, the unique indescribable smell of mist, and the stillness of peace and beauty.
The children probably thought the pretty pool an easy conquest.
How wrong they were.

In response to: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, Week of April 11 2017
Image by: Maria with Doodles and Scribbles

The ash of dreams

Standing afar I had watched.

I had watched as the orange blaze tore through the virescent carpet, its unfettered flames devouring everything in its path and leaving behind only ash and dust, which the treacherous wind carelessly tossed around like shimmering red and black confetti, rising like plumes of darkness and misery, carrying with it the shelter and sustenance of many.

O how we had tried, but there was no calming the crimson ire.

The burning smell still lingers. What was once lush green and humming with life is now reduced to lifeless sticks of charcoal, the sound of stillness as unmerciful as the roar that has passed. I send a prayer for the displaced.

There is no escaping the pain of loss and death, or the yearning for the green shade and the noise of the creatures that had dwelt therein. Yet I know that nature is resilient. It is a cycle my people have seen before. It is the way of life. This is what happens when lightning strikes parched undergrowth.


Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers based on photo prompt by Yarnspinner

A benediction

From the loins of the earth springs forth water
A benediction upon mankind
The mother succors, feeds, breathes life into dust
Breaking stone to dust
Shaping dust to rock
Ever changing
Never changing
From the loins of the earth springs forth water
A benediction upon mankind

The Gosthani

Posted in response to the Tuesday Photo Challenge – Spring

The White Lady

Baby-sitting an acres large property out in the wilderness – as a poor near starving student on a sabbatical this was a dream job. The old caretaker/conservationist had passed on and till a new one was appointed, this was to be my gig.

The quarters were actually a quaint old cottage perched on a clearing near the woods, run down, but the stuff on postcards none the less. The isolated road lead up to a rock wall cottage that had ivy creeping up its walls, with little violet flowers peeping from between. There were hedges and vines and honeysuckles all around. A little dirt path with pebbles led down to the forest at the rear. The windows were rickety and the insides sparse, a tiny stove, two small wooden chairs, a circular table, a not-so-large mattress and that was all. But there was heat and electricity and it was a tired yet happy camper who went to bed that night.

When my eyes opened it was sometime really early, like before daybreak. I was not one of those wake at the crack of down from sheer ingrained habit types, so I knew it was something that had roused me. Suddenly there is a rattling on the windows and I look out to see hundreds (OK maybe a little less) of golden eyes looking in on me. I let out a scream, which I knew was pretty futile. I mean, it’s not like there was another person within screaming distance. The eyes disappeared. I sat there rocking myself, awake, desperately needing to pee, but too terrified to get out of bed. I mean, who knew what lurked under the bed in this crazy place.

Years passed, although my watch showed it as just an hour, and I finally got the courage to get up and go to the bathroom. But as I passed by the window I glanced out. Hanging gracefully from the tree with her unblinking eyes focused on me was a white almost translucent form. A white lady!
That was when I pissed myself.


Eventually the sun did come out to disperse the shadows and restore a fraction of my courage and reasoning.
I was a student of science. I did not believe in ghosts and ghouls. I was not a coward who was going to cry spook and give up a very comfortable paying job, especially not when I had spent a part of the salary upfront.
With those words of self-motivation I resolved to venture out into the woods.

Prudence made me stick to the pebbled path which eventually led to a grove of old trees that appeared to encompass what was probably a sink-hole. Curiously enough the area around the grove had been cleared, as if people had frequently walked about.


There was nothing special about the trees, so logic dictated that it was the sink-hole that attracted visitors. I looked around, picked up a pebble and with great temerity aimed for the opening.

Before I could fathom what was happening, with a great big whooshing sound that seemed to arouse the entire habitat, a furious Swarm of creatures charged out. I was knocked back on my butt and just about managed to curl up in a fetal position with my arms over my face. Around me there was furious wind and storm. What had I unleashed? Would I even survive this? Dang, I was far too young to die.

Eventually the sounds subsided and I meekly uncoiled to look around. It was then that I saw the sign board…

The Bat Cave & Conservation Foundation – Bat Hole No. 2


To see The White Lady please click here

Photos Courtesy Monfort Bat Cave & Conservation Foundation

Architectural marvel of a different kind

There are some prompts, where you take one look at it and immediately an image flashes in your mind, and you know without a doubt that this is the one.
Then there are other prompts, such as this one, where an entire plethora of images runs through your mind.

Do I go with man made structures, some of the fabulous engineering marvels that I have been fortunate to see?
Or do I go with the marvelous structure and balance that we see in nature? Like Frank’s fan shaped leaf.
I started to go through my album… and then I came across this…

To truly marvel this structure one must keep in mind the size of the builders and the fact that they have neither tools not technology to aid them. Almost like the miracle of the great pyramids.


My picture of an anthill

posted for the Tuesday Photo Challenge – Structure