Samual, the seal liked to slide in the snow. You would often see him smiling and enjoying his favorite hobby.
Sonny was his brother but wasn’t as friendly as Samual. He hated that his brother was so popular so he planned a prank to sabotage him.
He lured Samual to a place where the snow wasn’t firm and watched smugly expecting Samual to fall into the fresh snow needing help to get out. But Samual was no novice! He expertly navigated the snowy curves and came up a winner.
Marty loved to play by the pond in the summers. The fairies also came to play there too and though they never acknowledged Marty, they both were aware of each other’s presence.
But one day, the fairies were forced to acknowledge not only Marty but also to appreciate his brave gesture. The incident occurred one day mid-afternoon when the adults were busy inside and only Marty was playing with his wooden sword in the garden. There were loud thumps and something large came out of the trees at the end of the garden. It was an ugly, evil troll. Marty was a brave little boy and when he saw the troll heading towards the golden pond he started shouting loudly to warn the fairies. His shouting distracted the troll and gave enough time to the fairies to hide.
Marty ran inside when he saw the troll coming for him and was saved.
From that day onwards whenever he went out to play, he would find a nice surprise for him in the garden, a thank you gift from the fairies.
Roberta, mama rabbit was desperately looking for Rob, her baby rabbit. He was supposed to be by the riverside playing with his siblings but he must’ve run off chasing some imaginary foe. He was the most mischievous and rumbustious of her progeny.
It was with tremendous relief that she spotted him nibbling grass near the edge of the deep ravine. She gave him a well-deserved scold and scooped him up in a big hug.
“You naughty rabbit! Never wander/ hop away alone!”
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a castle on a tiny island.
It looks like a real castle from distance. But in reality, it’s a small, child-size castle made on a small island for special children to play.
Who are these special children? You ask! Children who haven’t had opportunities like other kids to enjoy toys or outings with their families. Kids who aren’t privileged to be born to affluent parents or those who love them unconditionally.
Someone who wants to remain anonymous built this play-place and the only condition for entrance is that you are approved by the manager, who also runs the orphanage in the city which houses most of these special children.
July 25, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story sweet as cherries. It can be about the fruit or something cherries represent. Why is it sweet? Can you use contrast to draw out the beauty? Go where the prompt leads!
Sara brought boxes of dark succulent cherries for everyone in the family when she returned from her trip up north. Dark and sweet, they were hard to resist and we had gone through almost half of our share by morning.
“Don’t eat everyone’s share”, she said, because they were so tempting. “Also you might upset yourtummy from eating too many”. Needless to say, her advice fell on deaf ears and greedy fingers, with consequences foretold.
Next morning, I asked her to send the leftover fruit to her brother and sister’s so that I don’t have another bad night.
For the visually challenged writer, the photo shows three children playing. A girls and a younger boy are sitting in a toy car going down a hill very fast and another boy is being pulled behind them parallel to the ground.
Mindy loved the smell of old, musty books, especially those in her grandpa’s library.
Whenever they came to visit her grandfather, she would go to his study and explore the old books there, eventually selecting one that she hadn’t read yet, though with years it was getting difficult as she had read more than half of them.
Grandpa never put any restrictions on which books she could read even when she was ten and had discovered his library for the first time, he always said that she could pick any book that took her fancy, his only condition would be that she finish the book and not leave it unread in the middle.
Now that she was sixteen, she was getting more interested in romance and scanning the titles, she spotted a historical fiction which looked promising, and when she opened the book, she found a red rose pressed in the pages, acting as a bookmark and she was intrigued by it as it seemed out of character for her grandpa to do this.
A bit hesitantly, she went to him and showed him the makeshift bookmark with a questioning look, “Grandpa, I found this in the book, is it okay if I read it?”
He took the pressed rose from her and looked at it with a rueful smile, “ sure you can read it, I gave this book and flower to your grandma on her birthday and she saved it by drying it, it was her favorite book and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it too”
(For the visually challenged writer, the photo shows an old fashioned record player (aka gramophone) in a room with possibly Victorian-era chairs and other period decorations.)
People trust me with their secrets, but if they really knew me they would be a bit more cautious. That old saying that even walls have ears isn’t all that far off. I may look like an insignificant piece of old tech but I really am much more than that.
My inventor created me to record all the conversations going on around me. When people think they are alone, they share their secrets and nefarious plans which are stored in my memory bank. Once everyone leaves, my owner comes and listens to the recordings and makes notes of anything worthwhile.
He has amassed a lot of wealth by blackmailing his visitors.