torsdag den 29. september 2022

Words for Wednesday :: Aunt Jemima's Garden 6

his meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Troubles led her to bow out, but the meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator.

  Essentially the aim of this meme is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given some prompts. These prompts can be words, phrases, music or images.
  What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...
  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

  Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog. This fun meme includes cheering on the other participants.
  And the more the merrier goes here as well, so if you are posting on your own blog then please tell us in the comments, so that all other participants, can come along and applaud.

The words appear on Elephant's  Child's blog every Wednesday in September. The words come to us from the head of David M. Gascoigne.

I'm a day late, sorry, and continuing the story of Aunt Jemima's Garden.
This Wednesday's words are:


Afternoon
Furrowed
Enchanted
Knowing
Organized
Singing

      And/or
Clutched
Beyond
Metaphysical
Symbiosis
Vital
Father


It was a beautiful afternoon, the house was situated at the road, with fields stretching from the unkempt hedges into the far distance, the furrowed fields emitted a nice, pungent earthy smell, which both girls enjoyed.

Finally in small careful increments, Susan set the stone to her eye and looked into Aunt Jemima's enchanted garden. Not knowing what she would see, she was totally awestruck. The garden was crammed with fairies. They sat in the flowers, hey hung from clotheslines, windowsills, roofs and just everywhere. It was overwhelming. Susan stood still, the fairies seemed to be organized after size and colour, and they were singing.
She listened, no, not singing, maybe crying. She clutched the stone while holding it to her eye. No mean feat, and listened. The faeries sung, or cried, Susan was still not sure, about the big world beyond the enchanted hedges, beyond the wall.
Susan took the stone from her eye, still she could hear the crying song from all the fairies. "Heidi," she said, "something is wrong here, totally wrong. The garden is crammed with fairies, they could not hide even of they tried." She put the stone back with a swift, hard movement, and even thought the fairies cowered, they could not all hide. She handed the stone to Heidi, who in her turn looked trough it.
"I have never seen anything like it," she said. "What do we do?"
"My first thought was simply letting them out, breaking the magic circle that binds them or something," Susan said. "But I'm in doubt. There are so many. Do they as that book has it live in some ... what was it now ... Yes metaphysical symbiosis with wizards, and would they perish without this vital something from magic?"
"I don't know," Heidi said. "My father would. He always liked fairies and studied old books to know more. He would be totally crazy to be here."
"Can we summon him somehow?" Susan asked.
"Nope, but ... I have an idea. A magic letter! That would sure make him come, he can teleport, he knows the garden."
"Brilliant!" Susan said and dug up her notebook and pencils from the basket. "Here, you write!"

6 kommentarer:

  1. Oooh. Unexpected and very, very exciting. More please. I so hope that River's prompts next month lend themselves to continuing this story.

    SvarSlet
    Svar
    1. I sure hope so too. Thanks for the encouragement.

      Slet
  2. Good read. Makes curious for more.

    SvarSlet
  3. Let's hope he comes quickly and knows (or can figure out) what to do.

    SvarSlet
  4. Oh the poor fairies! I do hope Heidi's father can help. Very nice chapter.

    SvarSlet
  5. I'm thinking the fairies aren't the nice kind but then that's pessimistic thinking. Maybe they are the good kind.

    Have a lovely day.

    SvarSlet

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