With sadness, I have to report Saturday Centus had to shut down. Jenny Matlock has been a wonderful supporter of adult writers as she challenged others over 180 times.

From childhood, Melek had been afraid. The sight of a bird, the sound of the wind, angry words all brought her dread.

As a young woman, Melek rarely ventured outside. Her timidity worried her parents but fate was to play a hand.

War, a human tragedy, came to her home. Many, including her parents, were lost. Melek hid in terror until she heard the voice of a crying child.

Thoughts of fear disappeared as she searched the rubble. She found one then others. When peace came, Melek had gathered sixteen children and a reputation for bravery in protecting her family.

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Brian rang his mother-in-law, Cherish, “It’s a girl. Destiny’s doing fine but there might be a problem with the baby.”

Brian could hear Cherish’s concern, “She’s having difficulties. Doctors say it’s common in premature babies.”

Cherish was a trained nurse and knew the risks for very premature babies. She wanted to know the baby’s name. Her family had a tradition of uplifting names.

“Cope?… Oh, an aitch. We decided on Faith… Yes, similar meaning. We need to have faith. Doctors suspect cerebral palsy.”

In time, Faith grew and learned to cope with her physical challenges. Her intelligence became her strength.

This story is a prequel to a 100 word story written on February 28, 2012. Entitled, “Against All Odds”, it’s about  the success of Faith as a writer and the fulfilment of her parents’ hope.https://rossmannell.com/2012/02/28/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-wk32-prompt-take-a-leap-of-faith-100-words-against-all-odds/

This graphic should only be used with written permission from me.

A time worn man shuffled by, “Doleo pro peccatis meis.”

My faulting Latin suggested he was sorry for his sins. He stopped, still mumbling to himself. I approached.

He looked up sadly, “Mea culpa. Doleo pro peccatis meis.”

“What sins are your fault?”

In English, he explained he’d invented a joke and had been cursed to an eternity of hearing it repeated.

“What joke could be so bad?”

He would only say it in Latin, “Quare pullus transire via?”

I translated, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

A shriek of pain echoed across the park as he ran away.

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I could hear them making their way around. Their excited yells made their joy audible.

“Left.”

“Right.”

“Not this way.”

“Go Back.”

“I made it. Oh, no, I haven’t.”

This continued for about an hour while I sat in the shade of a tree enjoying the excitement drifting through the air. My fun was to listen.

Finally, one then another burst out.

“We made it!”

They ran over to me, “Can we come back again? That was so much fun in A. We want to try B.”

I promised tomorrow they’d be Bmazing after their fun in the A maze.

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Looking at her newborn, Mrs. Otis saw greatness in her son. Showing her faith in him, she named him Alvan.

Alvan was the type of child many might overlook. His quiet nature could make him invisible when with others yet history is full of people of little significance until circumstances thrust them into the public eye… so it was for Alvan.

The Great Plague came upon the people. None were spared the effects, excepting Alvan. He had a natural immunity. It was this that brought about the cure.

The world rejoiced. Alvan Otis had lived up to his naming anagram.

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Whether a child or an adult, we are often confronted by that which social, legal or moral reasons have us believe should not be done. Rather than having the freedom to express ourselves through thought or deed, we are restricted by social taboo yet there are those who stand against such norms. They are labelled radicals, criminals or misfits, labels that can apply to many who thumb their noses at the socially acceptable but, in order for a society to function, there must be limits in place or a society breaks down into anarchy. The question is, who decides the limits?

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…and a short 100 word story coming to mind when writing the above…

“It’s outlawed!” the words echoed around the room, children cringing at the volume. “None may speak those words. All you’re taught is law, unchanging. Leave!”

A small child, quivering with fear, stood and left the room. He didn’t know his fate. None had previously committed his crime. None had dared. All should have been prepared in the ways of learning.

Parents were ordered into the presence of the tribal elders, their knowledge of their fate unknown. They’d also suffer the punishment of their child.

The family was ejected from the tribe for the child’s crime of curiosity.

He’d asked, “Why?”

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Tamiko was scholar of the tribe, gifted in knowledge of old and young ways. She was keeper of the archives, sharer of knowledge and teacher to the young.

“Tamiko?”

Tamiko smiled at one of her small students, “Yes, child?”

“What do the words mean?”

She’d chosen an ancient song for their lesson.

“Hot time. Summer in the City,” the words flowed without meaning to the young.

Tamiko explained, “In ancient times our world was much warmer, our sun much brighter. The words tell of warming times in big villages.”

The young learned the world hadn’t always been the same. There’d been the time of the greening.

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Naida listened to the television and heard someone say they were, ‘Campaigning as the Mayor of Stress Town.‘

Most adults would have clearly understood the meaning of the words spoken but Naida was only five and did her best to decipher the words she’d heard.

“Mumma?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Where is Stress Town?”

Her mother hadn’t heard the television, “I don’t think there’s such a place.”

“I want to go camping there. A man said he was camping in Stress Town. It looked like a nice place.”

The words were repeated on the television, this time mother hearing.

Mother smiled, “I know a better place we can go.”

“I fell into a ring of fire…” the old man of the tribe began.

Children, “Weren’t you burned?”

Smiling, “No, it wasn’t like the fire we sit near.”

“What was it?”

Continuing, “It was the fire of enlightenment.”

“What did it light?”

“Knowledge… My eyes were opened. I could finally see.”

“Were you blind before?”

“My eyes could see but I couldn’t.”

He saw their confusion.

He held up a seed, “Do you see the plant this will be?”

They replied they couldn’t.

“Yet it’s there waiting to grow. So it is with knowledge.”

The children were lost in discussion. The old man had planted the seed.

This is the graphic from the Saturday Centus site.

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