🐘 Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, poet, curveballer, noir dreamer 🐘
Written for Esther’s “Can You Tell A Story In…” #272
exactly 38 words using these four required words:
‘hullabaloo’, ‘queue’, ‘slug’ and ‘beam’.
This is my 38 word story.
TRIGGER WARNING: I KNOW, IT’S A SNAIL! SUE ME!
DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK
TO TRAIN THAT SUCKER TO DO THIS?!
Written for dVerse Poets Tuesday Poetics:
The Opticians Words where the challenge is
to use one or two or more sets of words in a poem
in the order in which they appear. This is my poem.
One summer I took his name.
“This means you are mine
and I am yours” he sighed as
we arose from the cold, damp floor.
I stepped nearer for him to remove
my veil and stared into his glistening
indigo eyes, blue-black like the crow.
Grazing his mouth with mine,
lips barely touching, I murmured
“Take me back home now, my love,
to our wedding bed
in the caves by the sea.
Read sonnets and verses to me
as waves churn and cream
against the ocean’s shore.”
NAR©2025
This is “White Wedding” by Billy Idol
The prompt words:
nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy ~ The Sicilian Storyteller, Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section, and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Re-visited, re-read, re-worked and re-written
for The Unicorn Challenge where Jenne & CE
encourage us to get creative in 250 words or less.
The photo below is our inspiration; this is my story.
This is a story I wrote a few years ago.
Some of you have read it; many have not.
I revamped it and hope you enjoy the read.
Graphic created by Kevin @ The Beginning At Last.
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #397,
using the word “merge” in exactly 28 words,
this is my fast food flash fiction.
🍩 🍦 🍕
Shweta is our host for Saturday Six Word Challenge #119.
Graphic by Kevin @ No Theme Thursday
This week’s prompt word is “brave”.
Here is my 6 word flash.
This week Jim Adams has asked his readers
in his post “Sprouting and Thriving” to write about
a song that won a Grammy award for Best New Artist.
Written for Song Lyric Sunday, here is my choice.
Looking through my early stories, I found one from 2017,
my first year on WordPress, with only 4 likes and no comments;
I thought I’d give it another shot. Any similarity between the MC
and yours truly is very much intended. I hope you enjoy Lamb Stew.
Written for Wordle #679,
using the 12 prompts below.
Here is my story.
sighs ・ fire ・ flip ・ ravaged ・ blue ・ floor ・
emerge ・ masks ・ ashes ・ soak ・ skin ・ weave
This is Week 45 of Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag and we are
asked to choose a song by a group or solo artist whose
name begins with the letters U, V or W. This is my choice.
Written for d’Verse Prosery where the challenge is to write
a piece of flash fiction of no more than 144 words that includes
the following quotation from “Out Of The Cradle” by Walt Whitman:
“Out of the Ninth-month midnight”. This is my flash.
Sometimes you see an image
and you know it’s perfect for your story.
This is Kevin’s pic from No Theme Thursday: 10.17.24
and here is my story.
Written for Weekly Prompts – The One-Day Prompt (6)
and The Sunday Whirl – Wordle 673 incorporating the
twelve required words shown below. Here’s my story.
“Secrets, lies, glimpses at your messages, the way you jump for the phone every time it rings. You’re living a secret life, Kenneth, and it’s destroying us.” June’s lips quivered, her eyelashes were wet with tears. She walked across the living room to stoke the slowly dying fire …. an ironic symbol of their languishing nine year marriage.
Kenneth stood by the window looking down at the street below. As much as he tried to avoid talking about it, he knew one day it would come to this.
June wondered if he was even listening.
“You had another dream last night, Kenneth; the bed was soaked with sweat. Don’t you think I have a right to know?”
Slowly Kenneth turned to face June; he let out a ragged breath. “Yes, darling. It’s time you knew the truth. Come, sit with me.”
They sat together on the couch for a few moments in silence. Finally Kenneth turned to June and took her hand in his.
“I’m leaving, June. I’m going back to the Congo.”
June was stunned; of all the things Kenneth could have said, she never expected that. “And back to the arms of your lover Sunda, no doubt” she spat out bitterly. “How could you, Kenneth!”
“Sunda’s dead, June. The fevers returned with greater intensity and frequency. She didn’t make it.”
“Dead?! Then what other reason could you possibly have for going back?” June asked, bewildered.
“The messages I’ve been getting .… they’re all from my doctor. Twelve years ago Sunda and I nearly died from the plague in the Congo while doing research. We both miraculously survived. Now she’s dead and I also have the fevers. I’m dying. The doctor confirmed my fears.”
“No! It can’t be true! I don’t understand, Kenneth. Why must you return to the Congo? Stay here with me. We’ll find the best doctors and fight this together!” June sobbed.
“Oh, darling June. If only it were that easy. There’s just one cure and it lies in the Cinchona plant hidden deep in the western swamp forests of the Congo. I refuse to expose you to the danger. I leave tonight.”
NAR©2024
This is “Jungle Fever” by Stevie Wonder
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #208 –
“Undead To The World”.
You put your right hand in
you put your right hand out
you put your right hand in
and you shake it all about…
At this rate we’ll be here all night!
Vamp on over here, Sugar,
and give me some of that neck!
NAR©2024
44 Words
This is “The Time Warp Scene” from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #208 –
“Undead To The World”.
Heaving breasts beckon
A throbbing vein divine
Come to my side, darling Vampira
On your body I wish to dine
Eyes like burning embers glow
Skin smooth as fine alabaster
Waltz across the dance floor, my Vampira
Into the lifeless arms of your master
NAR©2024
44 Words
This is “Vampire Waltz” (clips from Van Helsing and Phantom of the Opera)
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Written for dVerse Poets By The Beautiful Sea.
This is one of my reworked pieces from 2022.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge,
to dip my toes and cool my burning feet.
There are times I think if I could just reach the water
all my pain would wash away.
Where are the days when I skipped along the shore
collecting shells and rocks and starfish?
My body would bake in the brilliant sun as I danced
like a gazelle from one end of the beach to the other.
I’d look back in amazement wondering how I walked that far.
Sometimes I would catch my reflection in the water
and see that young woman, vibrant and alive.
Hair of burnished gold, skin smooth and lustrous,
deeply tanned, and eyes as green as the ocean itself.
I smile at her but she does not smile back.
Perhaps she knows the hurt that lies ahead
and is already grieving.
I desperately want to be free from these chains of pain
but the key has long been buried in the sand.
I reach for it and again it eludes me.
Where is that young, desirable woman? Where did she go?
If you see her walking by the water’s edge, please send her home.
I have much to tell her. My heart is strong and my lust for life
and love has not diminished. Only my muscles fail me.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge, but my tired
and failing limbs will not support me. Oh, how they mock me!
Will someone carry me to the water’s edge?
How I long to walk there once again.
NAR©2022
From Concert for George, this is Sam Brown et al with “Horse To The Water” by George Harrison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are encouraged
to write something creative in exactly six sentences,
incorporating the word “hermit”. This is my six.
There was once a very old man who lived deep within the dense dark forest where he ate morels, mushrooms, berries and the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in the very old man’s traps, but the most delectable meals for this ancient hermit were plump little boys and girls lost in the woods – a rare but finger-licking-good scrumptious delight … or so the legend goes.
One unseasonably warm and sunny day several years ago in late November, young Ethan Collingwood and his even younger sister Penelope were on a journey, an expedition of sorts – (it was really just an assignment handed down by their mother) – to gather the chestnuts that grew in the woods at the entrance to the dark forest and bring them home for Thanksgiving dinner; the woods were once abundant with huge chestnut trees which were greater than 100 feet tall and more than ten feet wide, with acorn-sized nuts sweet like a carrot when eaten raw and even nuttier with a candied flavor after roasting; beside Mrs. Collingwood’s perfectly-cooked juicy and tender turkey, the roasted chestnuts were the highlight of their meal, making Ethan and Penelope’s mouths water at the thought of Thanksgiving dinner just one day away.
With strict orders from their mother not to go too deep into the dark forest, the siblings chatted happily on this warm November morning, baskets dangling from their hands for collecting lovely chestnuts but when they arrived at their destination there were no chestnuts to be found, prompting Ethan to suggest they go a tiny bit further into the forest; prudent Penelope protested but Ethan reassured her that all would be fine and, considering he was a whole year older, Penelope was sure he knew best so she agreed and Ethan was right, for only twenty steps deeper into the woods they found chestnuts covering the ground like a blanket; brother and sister began collecting the delicious nuts, filling their baskets and chattering away as they walked, collecting and eating chestnuts with every step they took and in no time they had gobbled up so many nuts, they grew tired, propped themselves against the mighty trunk of a chestnut tree and quickly fell asleep.
Time went by as time is wont to do, turning the warm day into night with a biting wind which woke the young ones who were disoriented, cold and with baskets only half full … something that would surely disappoint their mother … but Ethan, being a bright boy a whole year older than his sister, had an idea which he proposed to Penelope: “Let’s start to walk back home and fill our baskets with chestnuts along the way which will delight Mother when she sees how many nuts we collected and she will forgive our tardiness.”
Penelope sprang to her feet, cheered on by Ethan’s plan, but as she looked around, she realized she had no idea where they were and burst into tears, causing Ethan to inquire why she was crying; surprised by her response, the boy looked around and saw that they were indeed lost, making Ethan feel like crying himself but he refused to let his sister see his fear; instead, he said “Don’t cry, Penny, for all we need to do is follow the trail of chestnut shells we discarded while eating earlier today and we will find our way home.”
Encouraged by this brilliant idea, the siblings began retracing their steps but when they spotted a tiny ramshackle of a hut hidden among the trees, they knew they had walked in the wrong direction; the children realized this was the home of Donnegan Muldoon, the very old man who lived like a hermit feasting on morels, mushrooms, berries, the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in his traps and plump little boys and girls lost in the woods, and they were sorely frightened, especially now that the moon began creeping out from behind a cloud, casting strange and horrifying shadows wherever the young ones looked, with low hanging branches taking on the appearance of bony arms and fingers ready to snatch them away, and as the crooked limbs inched closer, Ethan and Penelope turned to flee but were stopped dead in their tracks, for looming before them was the menacing figure of Donnegan Muldoon himself, dressed an ancient, threadbare cloak, his long, scraggly grey hair and beard reaching his knees and piercing blue eyes as cold as a tomb staring at the young brother and sister who were too terrified to move or utter a sound.
NAR©2024
This is “Bread” from “Hermit Of Mink Swallow” by Todd Rundgren
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Written for Jim’s Thursday Inspiration #231 –
“Come Softly To Me”. Here is my piece,
a Dectina Refrain followed by a haiku.
Do
You hear
Me tapping
On your window
Come softly darling
Sit right here beside me
Kiss my trembling fingertips
Take me in your arms and hold me
Tell me you will never let me go
Do you hear me tapping on your window
A petal soft kiss
Fluttering cherry blossoms
Love’s gentle breezes
NAR©2024
The Dectina Refrain is written as follows:
1st line is 1 syllable,
2nd line is 2 syllables,
3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
and written as one stand-alone line.
This is “Come Softly To Me” by the Fleetwoods
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
I wrote this fairytale 14 years ago
for my eldest granddaughter, Mckenna.
I have revised it for my youngest, Colette.
~ THE KING’S DECREE WAS SENT OUT ACROSS THE LAND ~
PRINCES OF MAGONIA!
YOU ARE SUMMONED TO TAKE UP THE CHALLENGE
FOR THE HAND OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINCESS AMIRA!
Fifty answered the royal command. Upon seeing Princess Amira, they all gasped; she was a stunning beauty. Her unblemished skin as pure as snow, her eyes sparkling ice blue like crystal waters and her hair the color of the stars. Her loveliness was matched only by her brilliant mind and pure heart. She longed to be married but found most men boring, ignorant and foolish.
Amira motioned for the princes to sit and in a confident voice she addressed them:
“One among you will be my husband! Marriage is not based solely on appearances. To win my hand, you must be smart, interesting, humorous and brave. These fifty parchments, one for each of you, contain three riddles. You have two days to solve them. Record your answers on the parchment and return them to Zora, my lady-in-waiting. Use your brain; only a clear head, clever mind and true heart will win my hand.”
Forty gave up on the first day. On day two, the remaining ten reported to Princess Amira’s lady. Nine answered the riddles incorrectly and were dismissed. Only one answered all the riddles correctly. Now it was time for Zora to present the victor to Amira.
“Greetings, clever prince! What is your name?”
“I am Khalil but I am no prince. I am squire to Prince Wahid. He was unable to answer your riddles. He fled in embarrassment and I secretly took his place.”
“And you can answer them? Let us see! Zora will read the riddles.”
The first question was offered: “What is born each night and dies each dawn?”
Khalil answered correctly: “Hope”. Amira was impressed but showed no reaction.
Zora posed the second riddle: “What flares warm like a flame but is not a flame?
Again Khalil answered correctly: “Blood”. Princess Amira was amazed.
Finally, the third question was asked: “What disappears the moment you say its name?
Khalil responded confidently: “Silence”.
“Excellent, Khalil!” said Amira, stunned by Khalil’s clever wit. “All your answers are correct! But I cannot forget that you tried to fool me by pretending to be a prince.”
“Pardon me, your highness; I knew this was my only chance to vie for your hand. Prince Wahid is a dolt, desirous of your wealth and bewitched by your beauty. He is not worthy of you. Please afford me an opportunity to convince you we are truly meant to be together. If I may, I have three riddles to ask you, Princess Amira. If you answer correctly, we will be wed. If not, I am at your mercy.”
“I am intrigued by your daring nature, Khalil. I will allow your three riddles. Proceed.”
Khalil posed his first riddle to Princess Amira:
“I can only live where there is light but will die if light shines on me. What am I?”
Amira thought for a moment, then answered: “I know! You are a shadow.”
Khalil took a few steps closer to the princess.
“That is correct, your highness” Khalil replied. “Here is your second riddle”:
“The more there is, the less you see. What am I?”
Amira quickly responded with “Darkness.”
Moving closer still, Khalil smiled warmly and whispered “Correct again. And now for your final question, Amira.”
Curious and quite taken by this handsome, clever squire, Amira returned the smile. Khalil began his riddle:
“He is incognito, no birthright of blood royal.
He is patient, caring, determined and loyal.
He has no great wealth but is clever and smart.
He can promise to love you with all his heart.”
Khalil looked deeply into the princess’ eyes. “Who am I, Amira?”
Reaching for Khalil’s hands, Amira drew him closer and whispered:
“The answer is you, Khalil! You are my prince and future husband.”
Amira and Khalil found true love at last. They were married and lived a long and happy life.
The End.
NAR©2024
NB: My inspiration for writing this fairytale came after attending a performance of the opera, Turandot. The aria “Nessun dorma” (“Nobody shall sleep) is first heard in Act III of Puccini’s opera and is performed by the protagonist, Calaf, who falls in love with Princess Turandot at first sight. Before the aria, Calaf has successfully answered all of the Princess’ riddles but she is still rebuking his advances. Calaf is sure of his plan to marry the princess as he has challenged her to find out his name by the morning; if she cannot learn his name by the time the sun rises, she has to marry him. In the last line of the aria, the prince expresses his triumphant assurance that he will win the hand of the princess: All’alba vincerò! Vincerò, vincerò, vincerò (At dawn, I will win! Win, win, win!).
From the 1924 opera Turandot by Giacomo Puccini, this is “Nessun dorma”, sung by the maestro, Luciano Pavarotti.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Jenne, our genial host at The Unicorn Challenge,
has offered up the photo below as our inspiration
to write a story of no more than 250 words.
This is my 250-word response to that challenge.
There was once a land so very far away from every other land that it was almost completely forgotten by all the inhabitants of the world.
And on that land there were trees and bushes and plants of every type imaginable. Each tree, plant and bush bore the most incredible edibles … luscious fruits of every variety known and unknown to man. There were at least 10,000 kinds of grapes, 8,000 sorts of apples, 3,000 types of pears, 2,000 varieties of peaches, 1,000 kinds of bananas, 400 types of berries, 400 varieties of oranges, etc. There were many sorts of vegetables that grew underground as well as on trees. There were streams, lakes and rivers with crystal clear water abundant with fish.
And on that very far away land lived a cyclops … giant, of course, as all cyclopes are. He was left there years ago by his parents who knew he would never survive life in the city, a life of ridicule and torment and loneliness. They also knew they would never be able to show him any kind of love or affection; indeed, his mother was repulsed by the feel of his rough skin, and unable to look into his one large, blood red eye.
But the cyclops was not forgotten. Every birthday his parents would travel thousands of miles to bring him candy. He would greedily eat the candy and they would leave. Until the last visit when he ate the candy and for dessert, his parents.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is Cream with “Tales of Brave Ulysses”
All text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has challenged us
to write a Six Sentence Story using the word “heart”;
this is my six sentence response.
If only I could touch you,
gently caress your face
and look deeply into your eyes.
If only I could sweetly kiss your mouth
softly like a butterfly on a flower petal
and linger there breathing quietly against your lips.
If only I could run my hands slowly down your arms
and entwine my fingers with yours,
feeling your heart beating against my chest.
If only I could lay beside you
as you run your fingers through my hair,
my bare leg splayed across yours.
If only I could give you my heart
but you are a mere fantasy
and that, I fear, will never change.
If only.
NAR©2024
This is The Platters with “Only You”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
To read Part 1, click ‘Previous Post’ below
When Ekon and Mosi awoke they were not in the same place as the night before. They were in a higher elevation; it was colder and there were traces of snow. They were laying in a rudimentary tent, comfortably covered in blankets with a small fire nearby. Shiga happily munched on a shrub to which she had been tethered. Besides the change of location, there was a much more obvious and puzzling difference in father and son: both had aged approximately five years. Mosi looked to be about 25 years old and Ekon’s hair and beard were now as grey as the mountain sky.
A group of strange-looking men emerged from the woods and started walking in their direction; immediately Ekon patted his chest, feeling for the vial in his wrap, and was relieved to find it where he always kept it; he placed one drop on the tip of his tongue. The leader of the group, who looked like nothing more than a dead tree branch, spoke in a senescent voice, explaining that two of his people, while out hunting, had found Ekon, Mosi and Shiga unconscious near the brook and brought them back to a safe clearing just outside their village. The brook had been poisoned years ago after a mysterious storm and the tainted waters resulted in a deep, years-long sleep for anyone who drank; there was no antidote that they knew of.
These men were the last of the Twigorian order of monks; they were learned men, wise in the ways of the universe, science and nature. They lived among the members of the ancient San tribe as leaders and teachers. The chief monk assured Ekon and Mosi they were in no danger. When Ekon answered in San, the monks were surprised but quickly discerned that Ekon possessed the power of the Jal’mboor. After the men had talked for a while, a few San women approached; they asked Ekon and Mosi to follow them into the village where they would be able to wash, don clean clothes and eat. Mosi immediately caught the eye of a beautiful young woman called Tayla and they exchanged smiles.
Ekon and Mosi listened as the San people explained their ways. They knew how to preserve food in such a way that it could be dried to last a long time and reduced to a compact size for easy transport and storage. They developed a shield of invisibility which allowed them to disappear at the first sign of danger, thus avoiding any conflict, violence or harm to themselves or their land. They were philosophers and great thinkers but lacked basic skills such as tool-making and construction. Their homes were straw huts and tents in a great state of disrepair and their boats were rotting; everything was falling apart.
Mosi and Ekon told the San people of their quest to reach the top of the Sky Mountain Pines. Many had tried but very few succeeded. It was a treacherous journey but the San promised to help if Ekon and Mosi did something in return: teach them to make tools to build homes, boats and proper implements for hunting, fishing and farming. The pair agreed and spent the next two years working with the San people. During that time Mosi and Tayla fell in love and he promised to return to her after they reached the summit.
The San warned Ekon and Mosi about the Sanguine Precipice, the Gralapthian Dragon Den and the bloodthirsty gorillas known as the Ikorana Buhangi. The monks gave Mosi and Ekon a map to help them safely pass the precipice. In addition, the monks presented them with the invisibility shield to evade the monstrous beasts along their way. Their promise and mission now complete, Ekon and his son prepared to leave the San people the following morning.
Shiga was loaded down with new flasks containing safe, clean water, sacks of food, blankets and the invisibility shield. Bidding Tayla farewell, Mosi and Ekon followed the monks until they were safely on the other side of the poisoned brook. At the last minute, Mosi fetched a dozen old water skins and filled them with tainted water. Now they were truly on their own, prepared but anxious. The higher they climbed the colder it became and they blessed the San women for the warm clothing they now wore.
The pair hiked for days, sometimes not uttering a single word. In one terrifying second, their silence was shattered by horrific screeches and savage bellows. They knew they reached the first deadly threat: the Gralapthian Dragons. The sound of enormous flapping wings filled the sky and father and son covered their ears from the deafening noise. Mosi grabbed the invisibility shield just before catching a glimpse of the nightmarish creatures; he quickly covered himself, Ekon and Shiga, gently stroking the terrified mule’s nose to keep her quiet. The Gralapthian hovered over them, sniffing the air with gargantuan nostrils. Mosi gripped the shield tightly to keep it from flying off in the great gush of wind caused by the dragon’s wings.
The Gralapthian angrily flew away only to return moments later, obviously in the hope of catching their prey unawares. Again Mosi almost lost control of the shield. The Gralapthian spewed fire in different directions and spittle like molten lava rained down but Mosi, Ekon and Shiga stayed put undercover and the dragons missed their mark. Disgruntled, the Gralapthian flew off beyond the high pines. Mosi and Ekon remained where they were until they were sure all was safe. When they felt the time was right, they carefully retracted the shield and secured it onto Shiga’s back. The shield had served them well and once again they silently thanked the monks.
At first Ekon kept a journal of the passing days and nights but eventually lost count. They walked for what seemed an eternity and Mosi questioned himself a thousand times over if this was only a fool’s quest. Lost in their thoughts, Ekon and Mosi were surprised when they came to a divide in the path. Unsure which direction to go, they consulted the San map but it was of no help. Not knowing which way to turn, they finally settled on one of the paths; it proved to be the wrong choice.
Rounding a bend they found themselves face to face with the much-feared kings of the mountain – the Ikorana Buhangi Gorillas. They were hideous beasts, a mutation of a gorilla and a rhinoceros. Ekon froze as the monstrous creatures slowly came closer, snorting loudly, beating their breasts and baring massive teeth. Mosi thought quickly and placed a drop of the Jal’mboor potion on the tip of his tongue.
To the bewilderment of the gorillas Mosi began speaking in fluent Buhangarian: “We are travelers. We seek no trouble. All we wish is to pass by safely.”
The largest of the gorillas growled: “How is it you can speak to us, human?”
“We are magicians. We can offer you whatever you desire. What is your greatest wish?” Mosi asked, covering his fear.
“To rip your body to pieces and eat you!” shouted the Ikorana Buhangi.
“But you can do that any time. Surely there is something you desire above all other things” countered Mosi. “I repeat – what is your greatest wish?”
“ABSOLUTE POWER!” roared the beasts. “RULERS THE UNIVERSE!”
“If that is indeed your greatest wish, I can instantly grant it. It’s as easy as drinking the mystical waters in these skins” and Mosi tossed the twelve old water skins to the gorillas. They greedily swallowed every last drop the tainted brook water and were poisoned before they hit the ground. The earth under their feet shook from the tremendous weight of the gorillas but Mosi and Ekon were safe.
Elated with their quick thinking and great success over the Ikorana Buhangi, Ekon and Mosi quickened their pace as they moved on. Their relief was short lived, however, when they reached the Sanguine Precipice. Never before had they seen such a narrow path or so steep a cliff. Mosi checked the San map and saw a widening in the path about four feet ahead. Crossing that short but deadly span would mean victory or defeat, life or death. They could not make one false move. Mosi believed he and his father could do it but he wasn’t sure about Shiga. The men decided to lighten Shiga’s load by dividing it among themselves. She stood a better chance without the extra weight. Slow as snails they placed one foot before the other, Mosi leading Shiga and Ekon gently pushing her rear.
Just as they reached the safety of the clearing, Shiga lost her footing and landed full force on top of Ekon who howled in agony. Working quickly, Mosi uprighted Shiga and tied her to a tree, then he returned for Ekon. As soon as he tried to lift his father, Ekon screamed and fainted; Mosi immediately knew his father’s back was broken. Mosi gently carried Ekon and laid him in the shade of the Sky Mountain Pines; it was only then that he realized they had made it to the summit. His quest was complete but at what cost?
Slowly, Ekon opened his eyes and whispered “We made it, my son!” Then quietly he exhaled and died. Mosi cried out in grief and Shiga softly brayed where she stood, still tied to a tree. Mosi buried his father on the summit of the Sky Mountain Pines, laying his trusty spear across the grave. Snow began to lightly fall as Mosi packed his belongings and secured them onto Shiga’s back. Now, knowing the safe route, Mosi and Shiga began their trek back to Tayla and home to the Sangala Valley. They left the summit without looking back.
The End
NAR©2024
Music Director Thomas Dausgaard and the Seattle Symphony perform “In the Hall of the Mountain King” from Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 by Edvard Grieg
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Sangala Valley and the day was already warm. Ekon, a middle-aged widower and his son Mosi sat outside as they did each morning eating their breakfast before beginning their long day. It had been just the two of them since Ekon’s wife Bisa died from a mysterious illness several years earlier.
The Sangala Valley is very small but a good home for Ekon and Mosi. There is an abundance of sunlight for growing crops and copious amounts of fruit trees to provide food and much needed shade during the hottest times of the day. Mosi fishes daily in nearby Lake Caballo; he has become quite proficient but Ekon is the hunter, always keeping them well-fed with rabbits, pigs, deer or fowl. They also keep roosters, chickens and have a mare mule for milk.
Three other families live in the valley and share the area peacefully, frequently trading with each other. Ekon and Mosi are fortunate to have a variety of foods to eat; however, they have had little luck growing wheat or other grains – something Bisa excelled at. Sometimes the women bring them flatbread and loaves of Green Mealies, a fluffy corn bread, in exchange for fish or rabbits.
Forests of wild pine trees grow in the distance and the view from the valley is magnificent. One evening as father and son relaxed by their campfire, Mosi expressed his greatest desire: “Father, one day I shall visit the Cloud Mountain Pines.”
“One day?” exclaimed Ekon and laughed heartily. “My son, the pines are hundreds of miles away, a rigorous and dangerous journey of many months. It is a quest, not a day’s adventure.”
“But how can that be, Father?” Mosi questioned. “I can see them as clearly as I can see Lake Caballo.”
“Mosi, the wild pines are enormous and tower over everything” Ekon explained. “Their closeness is a mere illusion.”
“But Father” Mosi argued. “Look across the lake. The pines are plainly visible and the land is flat. We can get there in two days!”
“That is true, my son, but reaching the pine trees on Cloud Mountain is another story. You must give up this fantasy. Now, off to bed for both of us.”
Mosi did not mention the Cloud Mountain Pines again for a long time but he never abandoned his dream. One morning during breakfast Mosi told his father that he had decided he would not be able to rest until he traveled to the woods – or at least tried. Ekon’s first reaction was to once again talk Mosi out of his idea but as he looked at his son he realized he was no longer a child and his mind was made up. Ekon told Mosi he understood the need that drove him and they would make the trek together.
Mosi was overjoyed and immediately began to prepare. Ekon said they must bring only the barest of necessities, their fishing and hunting tools and their mule Shiga. There was also one priceless object which Ekon would never leave behind, a treasure handed down from generation to generation: a tiny vial containing the Tincture of Jal’mboor. One small drop on the tip of the tongue would enable the user to speak in any language chosen and the spell would remain until no longer needed.
They set out the following morning, reaching the woods at dusk on the second day. Mosi was shocked to find how much bigger everything was. Even the smallest trees were taller than him. Ekon and Mosi camped under the moon at the foot of the lake; after an early breakfast of fruit and nuts, they set off. The terrain was flat and easily passable until the fifth day when they came upon a vast, swiftly moving river blocking their path. Having no craft, the duo consulted an old map and chose to travel east. This would take them out of their way but it was the safest route. After many days of walking, they reached a shallow section of the river which they crossed safely.
The new terrain was steeper and difficult. The forests were dense and hardly any light shone through. They were keenly aware of the ominous stillness and Ekon kept his spear at the ready. Without warning the trees began to quake; suddenly hundreds of birds flew out and disappeared. A second later a massive Basambi Kurumandi Tiger appeared. He stared at Ekon and Mosi, deadly pale green eyes observing their every move. He snarled, exposing razor sharp fangs. Ekon whispered for Mosi to stand perfectly still but Shiga was spooked and whinnied loudly. In an instant the tiger leapt but Ekon was ready and felled the giant cat with his trusty spear through its heart. Father and son refilled their water skins from the river and, exhausted, went to sleep far from the felled tiger. They would start fresh in the morning.
END OF PART 1
NAR©2024
This is Yanni with “One Man’s Dream” (Live at the Acropolis 1993)
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
It’s time once again for The Unicorn Challenge;
this is my 250 word response to the photo below.
“Tell me again, Tom.”
“It was a glorious day, greener than Killarney in spring. We were out for a stroll, the leaves sparkling with dew. You looked so beautiful, Maggie, you made my heart skip a beat. Bluer eyes than I’d ever seen and hair the aroma of fresh peaches. We stopped and I picked a wildflower. I don’t know how you did it but you twisted the stem and made a ring. That was the day we became ‘engaged’. You said we needed to walk under the branch that stretched out over the path to make it official. I held your hand and we walked to the middle of the little bridge. We stood there and I knew from that moment on we would always be together. That’s where I kissed you for the first time. We were very daring, you being an older woman and all. I was 11 and you were 13 but we knew then we were made for each other.”
“It’s exactly as I remember. Tell me more, Tom. Put your arm around me. I’m so very cold.”
“Do you recollect the day we walked into the woods and discovered that cabin? I called it a ‘dilapidated shack’; you said it was “our dream’. We fixed that place up good, filling it with dreams. We raised our family there and welcomed our grandkids. Now our grands are getting married. Three generations of dreams, Maggie. Maggie? Oh, my sweetest love. Sleep now and dream forever.”
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “A Kiss To Build A Dream On” by Louis Armstrong
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers
is hosting another photo prompt.
Here’s the photo followed by
my 100-word response.
Leyland spoke softly as he comforted his weeping wife, Willow.
“Hush, darling. Another season has come and gone and I’m still here to protect you and the children. I realize I had a couple of close calls but so far, so good. I never thought I’d say this but I’m thankful for my disfigurement; it’s kept me from being selected and close to you.”
Willow sighed. “I feel terribly guilty. There’s no chance I will ever be chosen and I fear for our friends and family.”
“I know, darling. I’ll check on Douglas today. Pray the family is all safe.”
NAR©2024
100 Words
Author’s Note: Leyland and Douglas are very popular evergreens sold as Christmas trees. One of the saddest things is seeing all the dead and forgotten Christmas trees discarded by the curb after the season. Next time you go looking for a Christmas tree, consider buying one with its root ball intact instead of one that’s been chopped down; you can replant it in your yard or place it in a pot. Your tree gave you so much joy during the holidays; why not give it a chance to keep living? And BTW, artificial doesn’t need to have a negative connotation!
This is the one and only Frank Sinatra with “Willow Weep For Me”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
“Credited for my award-winning fruitcake” was probably the last thing I heard my speed date say before I zoned out, my head hitting the table with an impressive “thud”.
“DING!” went the timer and my arm automatically shot up as I shouted out “Check, please!” Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. “Yeah, I’m crazy alright for agreeing to go along with my friend Nadine’s cockamamie idea of speed dating the day after Christmas …. and she never even showed up!”
I looked up to see my next date arriving – an Elvis impersonator replete with spangled jumpsuit, a ton of hair and heavy cologne. Whoever invented the jumpsuit should be pummeled with one of Elvis’ belt buckles. “Well, hello there, little lady. I do believe fate has brought us together. You are the spittin’ image of my darlin’ Priscilla.”
“Oh Lord! Get me out of here!” my mind screamed. Quickly I jumped up.
“Hey, toots! Number 9! Whaddya think you’re doing? You can’t just break outta line like that!” shouted the hoody-wearing overseer with the pronounced nose. He pointed an accusatory finger at me looking every bit like Charon the Ferryman from the River Styx.
I shoved passed him, walking out into the cold December night. “You are such a pathetic loser” I murmured to myself. “Another wasted night and this time during the holidays! Wonder if there’s anything to do other than just go home?”
Looking around I noticed a movie theater down the street. “Well, better than nothing.” As I got closer I saw the movie was “A Hard Day’s Night” and it was about to start. Cool! I got my ticket and bought some popcorn. There were clusters of people sitting here and there so I chose a secluded seat in the back. I liked sitting by myself, away from weirdos.
Just as the theater lights dimmed, some guy walked in and sat right next to me. “Jeez!” I’m thinking, rolling my eyes. “Of all the seats, you had to choose that one!”
Looking straight ahead, eating my popcorn, I assess the situation. I never know what to do at times like this. Do I change seats and risk him saying something nasty? Do I stay put and pretend everything’s normal? What if he’s a pervert?
“This is all your fault, Nadine” I whispered.
“Excuse me. Did you say something?” asked the guy next to me.
The charming English accent caught my attention; I turned my head slightly in its direction. In my excitement, I immediately began choking as I inhaled a puff of popcorn. The guy sitting just inches from me was a carbon copy of my one true love – George Harrison.
“Are you ok?” he asked. “Here, have some water.”
Finally able to breath and talk again, I said “I’m awfully sorry! You shocked me. Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison?”
“All the time. It’s a curse. And has anyone ever told you you look exactly like Priscilla Presley?”
“All the time; it’s a curse.”
We both sighed heavily in resigned commiseration and turned our attention to the movie. We laughed through the whole thing, totally enjoying ourselves and lost in the moment; there was definitely a connection between us. When it was over we left together and decided to get a drink to celebrate the holidays.
We walk to a swinging little bar and who happens to be there? None other than “No-Show Nadine”!
Spotting me and my guy from the movie theater, she came running over, gushing like a schoolgirl. “Oh my God! Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison? Giving ‘George’ the once-over, she drooled. “Mighty slim pickings here tonight. Wanna dance, handsome? Olivia won’t mind, will ya, hon?”
Wanting nothing more at that moment than to escape Nadine, ‘George’ grabbed my hand and we ran from the club, laughing and tripping over ourselves just like in the movie.
Maybe I wasn’t a pathetic loser after all!
NAR © 2023
George Harrison and “Cockamamie Business”
It’s our final edition of
“In The Groove: Sounds Of The Season”
and we’re celebrating the holidays
with something George would definitely dig!
Please stop by and join in the fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
This website (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Rochelle @ Friday Fictioneers
has challenged us once again
to write a 100 word story
using the image below as a prompt.
This is what came to mind.
“What is this place, Draco, and why have I never seen it before?”
“Ah, Natalia, this is the most prized room in the castle! Very few know of its existence …. only those whom I trust implicitly with my deepest secrets, those whom I know will never speak of this room to another living soul.”
“Oh, dearest Draco! Tell me truly. Does this mean you love me?”
“Love you, Natalia? No, my dear. It’s not love that rules my vampiric heart, but lust.”
And with that he ravished her atop the sarcophagus before sinking his teeth into her comely neck.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is “Blue Christmas” by Elvis Presley
Please join me today for
Birthday Thursdays.
No fuss, no muss –
nothing but music!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
It’s time once again for The Unicorn Challenge,
and oh, what a challenge it was this time!
Here is my response to the photo prompt below.
Little Arvid was just a wee babe when his parents were tragically killed in a sledding accident. The only family he had was his Uncle Gunnar and Aunt Sigrid, who happily took him in to live with them. They were childless and lovingly raised their nephew.
Gunnar and Sigrid were little people, married for so long, neither one could recollect; their devotion was so rare, it kept them young. In fact they hadn’t aged at all since the day they married!
They lived in a tiny house in the world’s northernmost town of Longyearbyen, just 650 miles from the North Pole.
As Arvid grew, it became obvious that he, too, would be a little person; this was no problem because almost everyone in the town of Longyearbyen was a little person.
When Arvid reached the age of 8, Gunnar and Sigrid knew it was time for “the talk”. With great care they led Arvid into a small privy which was so secluded, Arvid had never seen it before. There was an imposing teal blue safe inside …. how very curious! Arvid was even more surprised when Uncle Gunnar opened the safe’s door to find it led directly outdoors!
The little family hopped on a long sled parked outside and sped down the snowy mountains until they reached the most magical place of all …. The North Pole! Soon, alongside his aunt and uncle, Arvid learned the mystical wonders of life …. helping Santa make toys for good girls and boys.
NAR © 2023
250 Words
Ho! Ho! Ho! This is “Jingle Bell Rock (Daryl’s Version)” by Hall & Oates, pre-restraining order, don’t you know. Yeah, it is! 🎅🏼
General Agricola was restless; for three nights he did not sleep. The Caledonians were plotting, of this he was certain. They were a pompous lot, thinking they could defeat his legions.
There was fire in his belly and he was determined to prove himself irreplaceable to the emperor, Vespasian.
Agricola summoned his first officer, Acilius. “I require the services of the scribe, Tertius. Depart immediately and bring him to me.”
Acilius did as commanded. The wizened scribe, Tertius, sat at the foot of Agricola, his calamus at the ready. He began the most crucial message of his life.
NAR © 2023
98 Words
This is Civil War doing “Rome Is Falling”
The Elephant's Trunk 