Small Friend – Līgo Haibun Challenge

September 2, 2013freyathewriter 22 Comments

This week, I have decided to dip another toe in the world of the haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny, Ye Pirate and Nightlake – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more?

This week’s two alternative prompts are photos – of a goat and a group of penguins. I have chosen the penguins, for no particular reason at all! I hope you enjoy it. Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting any of the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there…

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– Small Friend –

“Does your Daddy like penguins?”

I look down at the little face raised upwards like a smiling flower. Her small, sticky hand grips mine tightly as we watch the trio waddling around the penguin pool. The innocent question stabs at my heart, so delicately protected by a tissue of time. The words slice through, finding their target.

I smile, determined not to crumple in front of this cheerful four year old, lost in the excitement of her day out at the zoo.

“Who doesn’t like them? Don’t you think they look like old men, waddling around?”

She extracts her starfish hand from mine, holding out both hands – her signal for a ‘carry n’ cuddle’.

“Please, I’m tired now.”

I crouch down noticing the mild ache in the small of my back, a remnant of too many days spent in unforgiving hospital chairs. Picking her up, I relish the warmth of her grasp around my neck. One arm releases as a thumb slips into her mouth, and her index finger hooks over her nose, rubbing gently, comfortingly.

“Don’t be sad,” she says. “You can ask him when you get home.”

little girl in spring

her life beginning, sees pain

inside, gives comfort

Bushido – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

August 26, 2013freyathewriter 8 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below. Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Bushido –

Wakamura-san released a sigh, not so gently as he had imagined.

“Dad? What’s wrong now? I haven’t got time for this. The removal firm will be here in an hour.”

He could feel his daughter’s frustration roll towards him. She never seemed to understand that a tranquil state of mind required hard work and commitment, like anything else. She was never still, never in the moment.

She shoved a small wooden box in his lap then wrapped his soft, dry fingers around it more gently, patting his hands.

“Here, Dad, hold on to these, keep them safe. I know they are important to you.”

He opened the box and stroked the small swords nestled within.

“At least you know that much. Be busy, make your calls, organise and plan. I will still be here, when you remember to be still.”

He felt his daughter kiss the top of his head and pause, just for a moment.

She knew. She just needed to work at it.

Redacted

August 25, 2013freyathewriter 8 Comments

It’s beginning to feel as if life has always been this way. Most days, I forget the months and years of Before. We took all that for granted. We complained about endless summer holiday boredom. What I wouldn’t give to be bored, right now.

Water needs to be collected from the standpipe two streets away. Little Sarah has taken on that thankless task, balancing a container on her head and carrying it ‘like the African ladies’, so she tells me. She thinks it’s fun.

Davina deals with our washing. She found the twin tub in the shed, got Lance to drag it out for her. Thank goodness it still had the mangle attached. We turn the rollers by hand and squeeze the water out of our clothes. Nothing is really clean, but we manage a sight better than most. The kids down the road – the two Underwood boys and a couple of other strays – are filthy and stink to high heaven. They make me feel sick. I’m not sorry for them.

I’m glad we hadn’t moved to the countryside. What about the farm animals, broken loose and roaming half-feral and starving across the overgrown fields? How would I know what was safe to eat? At least we can take tins from the warehouses by the docks and know what’s inside. Lance finds our food – he’s quick, strong and knows all the shortcuts, away from the empty main streets, away from the danger.

They had said we should leave, that it wouldn’t be safe in the city. But we’ll be OK for a bit, at least until the next Collection. And we know the hiding places – They don’t.

“Lucy, Lucy.”

Sarah is tugging on my sleeve.

“Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”

“When’s Daddy and Mummy coming back?”

My heart creases. The pain is as sharp and overwhelming as ever. She hasn’t forgotten them either. I had hoped she would be saved from that, at least.

“Never, honey. I’m sorry.”

She hugs me, hard, locking her fingers together behind my back, squeezing the breath out of me. “And how long is never?”

Too long.