Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., Stories

Friday, truth or tale…

On Friday,
I write stories that are truth or tale.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it)
others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

It was a beautiful summer afternoon just perfect for a picnic. The leafy trees provided shade and a soft breeze and the colorful flowers added their sweet fragrance giving a wonderful backdrop for the young lover’s picnic.

They spread out the blanket and she unpacked the basket she had filled with her sweetheart’s favorite lunch. They ate and talked and laughed about things they had shared and remembered some quarrels and tears. But mostly they talked about their future. They would soon be married and begin life together as Mr. and Mrs. It was exciting and scary at the same time.

After lunch they had champagne and chocolates that he brought for dessert. Well, soon the lovers started doing what lovers do and no longer aware of the trees and flowers just simply wrapped in one another, so to speak.

After a bit they heard the sound of soft marching and singing. There were high chirpy voices of little boys and an adult voice telling the boys about what they were seeing on their nature walk. Too quickly the voices were close and changed to whispers and giggles and the startled gasp of the adult.

The Cub Scouts were very interested in the couple who were now somewhat covered by the picnic blanket and the Den Mother was trying not to laugh as she shooed the boys in another direction as quickly as possible. Then she turned to the lovers and with a smile blew them a kiss.

Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., Stories, whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

Something new for Friday.
I will write a story that will be truth or tale.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it) others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

Image by GLady from Pixabay

Fifty was her favorite birthday. As a child, she did what she was told, as a teen she rebelled, as a young woman she was sad and lost. But at fifty, she felt like she finally knew who and what she was meant to be.  It was a lovely liberation from the chains of the past.

It was like she was at last free of the cocoon that held her prisoner for so long. She decided to mark the day in a special way. She got a tattoo of a butterfly! A butterfly just beginning to open its wings to take flight. Perfect!

Posted in 5 Lines or Less, BrewNSpew Cafe, In Other Words, Stories, whatever!

Dancing in the cloister…

The young priest and the nuns of the convent watched as the postulants walked through the cloister to the garden for a time of prayer.  As they went into the garden to take their places they walked quietly with hands folded and eyes looking down.  Except for one who went in dancing with hands open, smiling and looking all around her with bright eyes.  The priest looked at Mother Superior with a scowl and asked, “Does she not know the proper way to enter the garden for prayer?”  The wise old nun smiled and said, “Oh, yes, she does Father but she cannot contain her joy when she is to meet with her Lord.”

In Other Words
Click here to see what the word DANCING inspired others to write and to add your own story or poem.

The word at the Cafe this week is CLOISTER