Tear Drops – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant go out in the rain
Although he thinks water is really cool stuff to drink
He likes to splash in his bath
Have a bit of a laugh
But he worries in case it makes his trunk shrink

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Our green goddess Rochelle offers a literary olive branch to a fantastic forest of fabulous fablers.
And AnElephant is rooted to the spot.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

© Santoshwriter

© Santoshwriter

Tear Drops

I understand women.
They are wonderfully emotional creatures.
They love to cry.
When they are happy and when they are sad.
Or just when they feel like it.
This is the key to my comprehension.
Because tears have to go somewhere.
I may gallantly, in passing, offer a handkerchief or tissue.
Easily retrieved.
Or simply lift their own, with no more difficulty.
You ask me why?
Just a little chemical analysis tells me everything.
Their moods.
Their likes.
Their grievances.
Their desires.
All in those tears.
Because where do tears come from?
Their beautiful eyes.
The windows to the soul.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Ice Cream – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant forget his ancestors
Although he knows this is just a Woolly Mammoth’s Ice Age dream
He likes to dunk
His curly trunk
Into a big glass of milk and blow bubbles to make his own ice cream

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some fabulous but freezing fables in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s melted mishap.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Ice Cream

I used to love going to the park with my little grandson.
We would play on the swings, feed the squirrels, catch tadpoles in the duck pond.
But the highlight of our day was always the ice cream.
This was our special treat, because neither his mum nor his dad were particularly fond of it.
So we would get cones, usually, or sometimes tubs, and sit on the grass and watch folk playing tennis, or cricket, or football.
And tell each other stories, and laugh a lot.
They were great days.
But, of course, he grew up all too quickly, and teenagers have little time for boring old grandpas.
I got lonely then.
I missed the good times.
And memories fade so fast.
So I try to recreate them.
I find that lots of children like ice cream.
The problem is that they want to leave after they finish eating.
And I like to take them home with me.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

to say goodbye

to say goodbye by anelephantcant

to say goodbye by anelephantcant


the sunshine fades to darkness
the sadness crawls across the sky
I know the day is over but
I can’t be the one to say goodbye

my heart chokes with the memories
a lost cloud covers my eye
I know the tears are futile but
I can’t be the one to say goodbye

life’s mysteries evade me
we did not discuss just why
I know the question’s answered but
I can’t be the one to say goodbye

do you recall the good times
when we were you and I
I know we’re no longer partners but
I can’t be the one to say goodbye

I see your lips turn inwards
as you prepare another lie
I know our time is over but
I can’t be the one to say goodbye

you said we could dance on high
you told me we could fly
I now know what makes me cry
I must be the one to say goodbye

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The Field – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant grow crops
He does not have what you call green fingers
But you can be sure
He has first class manure
Although boy oh boy that pong really lingers

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Our ambitious agricultural ambassador Rochelle sows the seeds to cultivate a cool collection of clever chronicles.
And AnElephant finds stony ground.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

© Marie Gail Stratford

© Marie Gail Stratford

The Field

I had expected it to be greener.
And somehow livelier.
But it is barren and deserted.
Maybe my memory is playing tricks on me.
Or maybe things have changed since the pictures were taken.
It has taken me far longer than planned to get here.
But things happen on a journey.
Mechanical failure, illness, and other more urgent matters cause delays, even with the best preparation.
And I did not prepare very well.
It was more of an impulse.
Because it was a good time for me to get away, in case questions got asked.
So I came to Earth.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 57 Comments

Dry Spot – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant live in a house
Those tiny doors just get him all befuddled
He prefers to be outside
He likes to run slightly wild
And of course he loves to have a long relaxing shower in a puddle

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some cleverly constructed chronicles in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s rambling ruins.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Dry Spot

It looks quite ordinary.
Just another house in a residential area.
And yet somehow it is different.
And so is she.
She lives there alone, of course, and keeps herself to herself.
She is polite, but distant.
Except with the children, who love her.
They seem not to notice her colour.
Don’t get me wrong, we are very cosmopolitan here, some native Scots, some folk from the sub-continent, some of African or Caribbean origin.
These things don’t bother us.
But she is green.
Well, at least greenish, depending on the light.
And that is the thing about the house.
The children play there a lot.
Hordes of them, running wild, having fun.
Sometimes I ask my two what they do there.
Just play.
When I try to probe further they get quickly exasperated, as children do.
Just games.
Occasionally when they come home they seem overly tired.
They can be lethargic for several days afterwards.
But they go back, always.
Maybe it is the weather.
You see, that is what I mean about the light.
It seems somehow brighter over there.
And it never rains in her garden.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

it’s over

it's over by anelephantcant

it’s over by anelephantcant

sunshine could not match your first smile
when I longed for you to hold me
now I spend each tear-stained night
wondering why you have not told me
it’s over

the thoughtless rain falls yet unceased
the wind can’t chase dark clouds away
the leaves won’t grow on barren trees
perhaps they too need you to say
it’s over

silver stars have lost their twinkle
golden moonbeam’s light is duller
gay butterflies are painted grey
even rainbows have no colour
it’s over

each cold minute of each cold day
my heart breaks because I love you
the snowflakes shiver through my soul
they can’t stop me thinking of you
but I know it’s over

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Tap – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant take to water
He can never be compared to a duck
He thinks it’s now time
For a really awful rhyme
Yep AnElephant swims like a rock

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Our divine Water Diviner Rochelle quenches our thirst for a tidal wave of tall tales.
And AnElephant is in a soggy mess.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

© Madison Woods

© Madison Woods

The Tap

This is the third successive night.
I am not sure if the noise wakened me, or if I am just restless.
It is not loud.
Maybe it would be better if it was.
The first night I assumed it was a dripping tap, so I just ignored it.
Last night I got up and checked the kitchen and bathroom.
Bone dry.
So tonight I was expecting it.
I strain my ears, try to find some clarity.
Tap.
Tap tap.
It seems to come from far away.
The cemetery outside the village, perhaps.
Where, just last week, my wife was buried.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , | 18 Comments