MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “Friday Fictioneers”

Capturing life


©Ted Strutz

Her first photo camera was a birthday present received as she entered puberty. It was accompanied by a card that read, “go explore the world out there and show us what you see”. It soon became an item she would never leave the house without.

Soon, that camera was replaced by one more expensive and specialised. It again came as a present and the prompt “so that you capture the beauty of life and never let it go”.

Years later, her photographs are worth millions. Yet she is content with a tripod, a friend and a sky full of stars.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


Believing in a dream


©Sandra Crook

Close your eyes and hold on to my hand”. Her ballroom dress fluttering in the light evening breeze. She was prepared for a royal evening. That’s was what her prince had promised. They were middle-class working people; two youngsters who met thanks to a common hobby. Dancing was their passion and what brought them closer together.

She had told him many times of her desire to attend a royal ball, but she never believed it would happen so soon. He took her early, so she could enjoy the springtime in the gardens, together with a romantic walk across the lake.


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The snow of revelation


©Dale Rogerson

It was the last days of the season when winter decided to really make its presence felt. It was snowing for three days in a row. Everyone was initially delighted. Until the problems started to reveal themselves. And with them everything else that had long remained hidden.

People got snowed-in and either took the opportunity to fall in love with one another again, or, at the opposite end, allowed their suppressed emotions to cause an irreparable strife.

Every moment we experience is like that. With good and bad. We are the ones who choose what to truly make of it.


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Surprising turnarounds

js-brand.jpgIt was a cloudless sunny day during the last month of winter when they reached the fishing-village. There was no-one around. So much, that it seemed a deserted town. They switched off the engine and took a stroll. Boats of all kinds always fascinated them. They found what seemed like a coffee house and entered. The owner – an elderly man – was delighted that there was someone in his shop he could not stop talking. The elderly always have something wise to say. And it was not soon that their unexpected destination resulted in a priceless purchase: their very own boat.


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Life stumps


©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Come with me. I want to show you something.” His ice cold hand wiped her tears away and she felt it as a relief on her warm face. She let him take her hand and followed him unquestioning.

Do you see these stumps?” He pointed at a pile of machine-cut thick stumps lying in a field near the farmhouse. “Imagine the original tree, tall and sturdy. That’s how we enter life. With every passing experience we have, we lose a stump. Becoming wiser all the while. Realise that all that experience we accumulate will be used to light a fire!


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Light up, light up


©Sandra Crook

In daytime, it seemed like a simple street lamp with its metallic surroundings and a white exterior. It was nothing special. At least that was what the majority of passers-by thought.

But one little girl believed differently. She saw in that lamppost a fairy tale. The first time she saw it, she said it reminded her of her father’s bedtime stories.

When night came, the lamp turned on; but in different colours. And when the first snowflake fell, the lamp turned itself into a lit-up snowball encasing Santa’s house.

Magic was there. You just had to want to see it.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


A shop of memories


©Marie Gail Stratford

It’s strange how certain places, songs, things, are associated with specific people. Maira had that. Every time she visited the city, she would always drop by her favourite department store.

And every time it would bring back memories.

She had visited that store so many times with different people. All with whom she shared a special bond.

That bond was rejuvenated whenever she stepped through the big glass door.

Even if she was alone, she always felt that sweet melancholy of beautiful times passed.

And so, each time, she always bought something from there. As a reminder of the visit.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


A perennial embrace


©Sandra Crook

The last time she had been there she had climbed up its branches and hidden among its leaves, hoping the world would pass her by. As a young girl, she would always seek refuge there. The huge tree seemed sturdy enough to offer her the security she lacked at home. She would run away and hide there; but she would soon be found and had to return.

Until the moment she simply ran away from the town itself.

Now, years later, that tree was the only fond memory she had of her childhood. The only thing that offered her comfort.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


Circle of light


©Ted Strutz

She loved full moons. She believed they represented completeness. And that light they emanated in the darkness was truly a remarkable sight. Plus, they never seemed to be the same: they differed according to your location.

Ever since the start of their relationship, he had always tried to make those full moon nights special.

Even now, fifty years later, he would still try to surprise her. And she somehow always was impressed.

This night he had rented a yacht in the marina they used to go for walks.

A candlelight dinner, staring blissfully at another circle of light. Love revived.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


The sound of rain on a tin roof


©J Hardy Carroll

Since they moved, they hadn’t been to their old neighbourhood. It had already been three years. They found themselves on their old street by chance, having taken a wrong turn.

It was still there, only seeming abandoned.

Their old studio. The one where they first met and became intimate. Where they shared their dreams and learnt about one another.

The one where they would crawl into each other’s arms to sleep on nights when their lullaby was the patter of rain on the tin roof.

Some sounds will always be associated to certain memories no matter how much time passes.


Also part of Friday Fictioneers


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