The inspiration:
A story:
He loves visiting the nursery. Those sweet little faces! Such a change from his regular duties.
“This is something new,” he points to the headphones that each little one wore.
Mary smiles, “What with the longer waits, we just don’t have enough volunteers like we used to.”
“Who wouldn’t love to sit here and cuddle?”
She laughes, “How about asking some of yours? Why such sweet things aren’t as popular.”
Mary snaps her fingers, a green blanket floats through the air, and tucks itself around a waiting soul, “Aren’t you due back, Peter? Mind your wings when you turn around!”
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Now, your turn.
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More from:
Smitty
Big Gator (Now with #moreangel !)
Carrie Aisling
Jimmie Bise
and Tania with her own inspiring image
[…] and Darleen: Friday Fiction Word […]
It had been an honor to be chosen, he supposed. But lying on the temple floor, with the razor-thin, razor-sharp blades of the temple guards resting lightly on the skin between his third and fourth vertebrae…he wasn’t so sure. He fought the urge to whimper.
A shrill voice echoed in the stillness. “Is the penitent found worthy?”
“He is,” came a baritone reply.
“The let him approach.” The blades were suddenly gone.
He approached the altar holding a lone, shimmering, pure gem. The Tear of Daphne.
“Guard it well, Chosen one,“ the voice said. “For as long as you live.”
[…] Today’s image from Darleen was really inspiring. I hate to admit this, but I am now finding it hard to confined these short stories to just one hundred words. This is a good thing. […]
[…] Inspired by Darleen at Protein Wisdom and Jimmie Bise at Jim-O-Rama […]
Every time an Angel wings, a kettle gets its bells.
Reversing the image (sort of): dinosaur barbs preserved in amber. They walk (and fly) among us.
[…] creating amazing Friday Fiction 100 Word stories: Jimmie Bise at Jimorama.com, BigGator5, Darleen at Protein Wisdom, Smitty at The Other McCain and Carrie at […]
[…] Fiction picked up this week from Darleen at protein wisdom, BigGator5, Smitty at The Other McCain, and Carrie at […]
Hillary started from her seat on the aeroplane, alarming those around her.
“It’s dew!” she elated. “Oh my stars and garters! I feel it! It’s moist! It’s supple!”
She tried to think of something to say in french, but was defeated by her limited french vocabulary.
She sank back into her seat and began squirming with abandon.
“This changes EVERYTHING,” she thought to herself. She thought about texting Gwyneth Paltrow, because she knew she would be happy for her, but would she be happy happy for her or I hate you I’m so jealous happy for her?
Huma would know.
They both stared — one wide-eyed in wonder, the other nonplussed.
After several seconds she cleared her throat. “So. Um. What is it?”
“It’s a drop of water on a feather,” he assured her.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “And…?”
“It’s a drop of water on a feather,” he repeated.
He resumed staring, and she looked at him in consternation. “Okay. So it’s a drop of water on a feather. It’s not like you’ve never seen one before.”
He looked up at her, startled. “Isn’t it?”
She was momentarily at a loss, taken aback by his reaction. “Well, I mean, it’s a pretty commonplace thing. Birds shed feathers every day. They’re all over the place. And they get dew or rain on them…”
Now his bafflement turned to accusation. “All this time you’ve been keeping them to yourself!?”