Category Archives: 2. Saturday Centus
Saturday Centus – Wk#172 – Prompt: “Campaigning as the Mayor of Stress Town” – 107 words – “Camping”
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.
“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.
Saturday Centus – Wk#169 – Prompt: photo and “how do you like to go up in a swing” – 110 words – “Ready!”
The sound of children laughing, memories now long passed.
“How do you like to go up in a swing?” my father had asked.
“Higher, daddy!” I begged.
The feeling of weightlessness before gravity pushed me back along my pendulum course was the childhood experience setting me on a path to my future. I enjoyed the feelings of weightlessness and had begged my father to make it last longer.
Tethered with nothing more than a lifeline, I launched myself into the weightless void now so familiar. I am a specialist. My task is to keep my craft fit for humans as we explore the asteroids in search of mineral riches.
An enigma, an unsolvable mystery yet there they lie, unseen movement, taking their course. There have been many suggestions why or how.
My mind, empirical, tells me to find why but, for a moment, I pause and think more of fantasy or symbolism. They move because they are a metaphor for our lives. They have direction, seemingly random, yet they journey along their course until one day their journey ends.
The empirical mind returns.
Movement is an action of wind, ice, water and slippery clay. I take one small step along my course through life, a metaphor for their journey.
Each year my father raised an old flag, its threads frayed with time. I’d wondered why he did this. Mostly, he proudly flew a flag unweathered by time, replaced with a new when needed.
I remember so well when I was ten, “Daddy, why do raise that flag each year? The new ones look prettier.”
He sat me down and explained he now thought me old enough to understand. He spoke of comradeship, sacrifice and loss and the part the old flag played.
My father long passed, each year I raise a special flag and remember those who came before.
It started a bright clear day, a great day for a hike. Not long into my walk, the first ominous clouds appeared. Wind whipped up and I could hear the beginning of rumbling.
I knew the dangers of being out in a storm but shelter was at hand, an old settler’s cottage long abandoned. With rain pelting down and lightning flashing across the sky now close, I entered the gloom.
A flash, the noise, my eyes nearly blinded, an apparition appeared. A spinning woman, a ghost from the past, she smiled as she faded. What tricks had the storm played?
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