The summer trip

©Jean L. Hays

When the heatwave set in, it was evident to most people that they were all in desperate need of a holiday. Everything bad seemed accentuated: the misery, the constant nagging, the rudeness among everyone. It was difficult keeping a good mood and pleasant character amidst it all.

But Maggie did her best.

Because this year she was looking forward to the summer recess more than anything.

This year she would go to the Caribbean. It was a dream trip.

And although she had volunteered to work at a marine center training dolphins, she knew this summer would change her life.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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Stardust

Every time she was invited into people’s homes, her gaze unconsciously went to their library. She fervently believed that a home without books was like a body without a soul. And she loved to discover where and how people had placed a library in their homes. But that wasn’t all.

It wasn’t enough to simply have a piece of furniture stacked with books.

It also depended on the quality and nature of those books; not only their content, but also their appearance. How a reader treats their books also says a lot about them as a person. Someone who appreciates their books and takes care of them, keeping them in pristine condition, is a much different character to one who breaks their spines and folds their pages.

A fun part of discovering new libraries, she found, was scanning the titles and discovering books she too read, or that were on her list to do so.

But the best memory she had of a home library was when the young man she had recently met gave her a tour of his favourite books. Rarely would someone share their virtual journeys with another like that. And the most reminiscent of all was when he took out a hardback book from the top right-hand corner of the tall living-room bookshelf, presenting it to her and saying, “You must have certainly read this one. I’m sure you know it”.

She took it in her hands as if receiving an invaluable treasure.

She read the title and gulped. The cover was filled with stars.

“Oh so you’re the star!”, the young man mimicked.

It was a line that you would recognise only if you had read the book or saw the film. But you would only appreciate the worth of the book if you – a true bookworm – had read it too.

That’s how stardust is formed. Magically. From the smallest and seemingly most insignificant things.

The island of a king

There is a legend that a King was born on the little island.

It was an island without inhabitants. Found between glaciers, where a couple in love found refuge from their warring families who so hated each other they would not allow the youth to join. It was there that their young descendant came to life. In the heart of nature, with only his parents to witness his arrival.

It was there where he sought shelter from life’s pain, from the strife among his family’s relatives, from the bullying among his peers, from everything he thought he couldn’t handle. But it was also on that very island where his life changed. Where he found a papyrus only he could read and which sealed his fate.

It was on that very island that Arthur became King.

The original painting

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

When we were kids at school, we would indulge in painting with watercolours. The more colourful our drawing would be, the better, and the happier it made us.

As kids, we would have the same palette of colours, but each one would produce a unique creation.

As grown-ups, we try to copy each other down to every minute detail. Jealousy has become a spiteful characteristic of adults, fighting over who will show they were first in doing something, regardless if they know the truth.

The original is always better than the copy, though, and it is evident which is which.

“You have your brush, you have your colours, you paint the paradise, then in you go” – Nikos Kazantzakis

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

This is the time

Let’s get lost.
In the keyholes through which light shines.
In the depths of the ocean, where there is none.
In the memories of your mind,
And the desires you hide in your heart.

Let’s fly away.
Beyond the lands we reside.
To territories far beyond.
The ones we only imagine exist.

Let’s run afar.
To the extremes of the earth.
To where the wild things are.
And change our mentality, together.

Let’s discover something new.
Let’s change and be bold.
Let’s do things differently.
And not lose hope.

Let’s live courageously.
Radiate in a broken forest.
As if we’re alone.

Let’s do this now.
This is the time.
There is no later.

The undelivered parcel

©Jean L. Hays

She had left hastily that morning, having overslept after repeatedly snoozing the alarm.

She was washed, dressed and ready in less than ten minutes, when it usually takes her at least half an hour, something which shows that it’s not the procedure, but the desire in doing it that matters.

She grabbed her keys and ran out, starting off her day with too much anxiety already.

He had sent her a parcel over a week ago, filled with things that would remind her of him, of them, of her when she was with him.

But she would never receive it.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The participants in our life

There are some people who come into your life to teach you not to be so naïve. Not everyone is as kind-hearted and selfless as you think. And certainly not everyone wants the best for you.

There are those people who slyly stand by your side, simply to be first in learning all the gossip of your personal life, to gloat on how they’re doing better. They are the ones who feign support, but are the first to leave when they no longer have anything to draw from you. They are also the ones who stick with the ‘other side’, the one they know how badly they treated you and even accused them of it. People like these are the epitome of hypocrisy. And after the initial anger and frustration passes, you realise you’re better off without them, without their toxicity.

But there are other people who are the exact opposite. They are there even when you don’t need them. Silently offering their presence as a soothing element in your life. They are the ones you know will always do their best to help out whenever you need it and for whatever reason. They are the people you long to hear at the end of the day to embark on long conversations on how your respective days went. To exchange advise and reflect on your actions. The ones you share random thoughts with. The ones you want to share good news with because you know they’ll be genuinely happy for you and not want to undermine you for evolving into a better version of you. They are the ones who share your brightness and who help you sparkle a bit more.

There are people in your life you don’t want to lose, because they add value to everything you are and want to accomplish. And there are others whom you sometimes wish you never met.

People appear in our lives because each have their own interests. They stay or go according to your decision too.

You shouldn’t allow anyone to bring you down, simply because they can’t stand you beaming higher.

“People come into your life for a Reason, a Season or a Lifetime”

Charming disapproval

“Isn’t it funny how even the most elegant, charming and noble-looking people can have the most cavalier attitude towards significant issues?”

She sighed as she looked at the man who minutes ago was trying to woo her.

“I thought he was a proper cavalier, you know, a renaissance charmer, who knows how to treat a lady right.

But turns out, he is a misogynist”.

Also part of Weekend Writing Prompt #165

A rose among verses

It was the last thing she found of him after he had left.

Afraid to touch the slightest, she breathed in deeply, desiring to inhale even the air surrounding his belongings.

It was the place where he was inspired; where he once sat and wrote down his deepest thoughts, his innermost emotions, those sentiments that drench our minds but which we don’t have the courage to say out loud.

It seemed like hours had passed before she approached his vintage wooden desk.

A pile of papers lay in disarray, all hand-written verses. And in the middle, strategically placed, was a single, long-stemmed red rose.

She leaned over to read…

“You’ll always be my forever,
My secret, my desire, my happiness;
Even if I lose you, I know you’ll be there,
Running across my mind,
Hiding in my dreams,
Drowning in my sorrows of having let you go.

You’ll forever be my always,
My love, my joy, my wholeness;
Beautiful as the first day I saw you,
Wild, energetic and bright,
Glimmering like the sun,
Sparkling like the stars,
Emanating that positive aura only you possess.

You and me will never be,
That’s what you said,
And it tore me to pieces
Like the verses in my head.

If always and forever were ever really true,
All I would ever want is to spend an eternity with you.”

Romantic syzygy

It seemed the perfect night to join their lives.

Sun, earth and moon were perfectly aligned.

In syzygy.

Just like they would be called in Greek “syzygoi” – husband and wife.

Also part of Weekend Writing Prompt #164