#SwiftFicFriday Week 127 : Sword Waited On The Beach.

Sword stood on the beach, and waited. He’d been there four days. Rose still had not arrived. “She’s slow. She has her own way of doing things. I need to respect that.”

He paced back and forth. He took 100 steps in a line, stopped, turned around, and took 100 steps back. He did this for hours on end.

He thought of heading to the forest to find Rose. To meet here in the forest, and finish the trip with her. “I have to trust her. She is fine. She is not in any danger. She’s just taking her time.”

Each morning, he dove into the ocean for a fish, a crab, a lobster, an eel, it didn’t really matter what. He captured it, took it to the beach, gutted it, skinned it, and otherwise prepared it for cooking. He cooked it on a fire, then ate it.

He spent the day gathering firewood. He tidied up his lean-to, even worked to make it sturdier. Anything to pass the time. Anything to keep his mind off of Rose, and how she hadn’t arrived yet.

Before sunset, he fished, cooked, and ate again.

And he waited.

At sunset, every day, a projection of Mystica showed up. It floated across the sand, and stopped in front of him. “Hi, Sword. I’m checking in again. Rose is fine. She’s on her way. But, she gets distracted, makes side trips, takes naps, plays with the animals.”

“When will she get here?”

“I have no idea.” Mystica always smiled. “But, we have to let her do this on her own. Like how Oceana allowed you to make the trip to see Rose on your own. She will get there when she gets there.”

Each night, he watched the stars until he fell asleep.

300 Words

It’s Week 127 of #SwiftFicFriday, hosted by Katheryn Avila. I’m still wondering what the heck is going on with this story. There seems to be only one way for me to find out. Anyway. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #SwiftFicFriday. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up regularly.


#ThursThreads Week 518 : He Wants Something.

Oceana watched. On the 6th day of Rose’s journey from the lake to the ocean, Sword had left the kingdom. He’d gone to the surface, to the beach, where he remained. He waited there, day after day, for Rose to arrive.

He’d gathered several large pieces of driftwood, and beach grass, and made a lean-to. Carving the wood to size, and shape, then trimming and cutting the grass, was no problem for him. He’d used the gift the wild magic had given him, to carve everything as needed.

Oceana wasn’t worried about him. She knew he would defend himself with his wild magic swords, that they were part of his arms, and he used them naturally. “He will be fine. But he is young and impatient.”

The fairies in the castle asked where he was, why he had left. Ocean explained, “He wants something.” It was true. Sword did want something. He wanted Rose to arrive. He wanted to see her. Spend time with her.

“If ever there were two hearts meant to be together, it is those two.” Oceana knew. Rose and Sword had found each other, and nothing in life would ever keep them apart. She waved her hand, and the image of Sword, pacing nervously on the beach, faded. She closed her eyes, whispered, “Merlin,” and waited, as an image of Merlin, the dragon, formed in the air.

“Ah. Oceana. Want to know how Rose is doing, do you?”

“Please, Merlin. Is she safe?”

247 Words

It’s Week 518 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the stories in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up every week.

#ThursThreads Week 516 : She Can Hear Us

Rose did not follow the foxes, “Wow, are they shy!”

An owl circled her crescent moon boulder, then silently landed on its highest point. “Hello, wild magic fairy.”

“Hi. I’m Rose.” She waved at the owl.

“I don’t have a name.” The owl looked around, “None of us do. Names are used by humans, fairies, and dragons.”

“Would you like to sit next to me?” Rose patted the boulder next to her. The owl dropped to that spot.

One of the foxes peaked out of the trees. “Look to your left, Rose,” the owl directed. Rose looked, and spotted the fox.

The fox spoke again, “She can hear us.”

“I know,” said the owl. “She can.”

“Is she dangerous?”

The owl studied Rose a moment, then spoke to the fox, “She has the potential to be exceptionally dangerous. But she doesn’t want to be. She doesn’t want to harm us.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve watched her for hours tonight. She hasn’t harmed anything. All she does is watch.”

Rose nodded, “Please come out and talk with me. I would love to meet you.”

The fox inched into the open. Rose saw he was scared. “What flowers come out at night?” She whispered to the wild magic, “Moonflowers.”

Several small vines grew from the ground, and grew in the direction Rose was heading. Soon, they were full grown, and flowers erupted from them, lighting up the night with dozens of Moonflowers in neat rows. “Aren’t they pretty?”

247 Words

It’s Week 516 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the stories in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up every week.

#ThursThreads Week 515 : You’re Telling Me This Now?

“I’ve never been in the forest at night,” Rose sat on her crescent moon shaped boulder as it silently glided down the path the trees opened for it. “It will be fun to see what the night is like.”

She tried her best to be quiet, to not sing, to not talk to herself, or to the trees, or the stars, so she could hear the sounds of the forest. It was a stop and go journey. Every time she heard something, the boulder stopped moving, and Rose looked around, and tried to find what she’d heard.

There were lots of field mice roaming the floor of the forest, hidden under the brush. She saw an owl circling overhead, its eyes scanning the ground, looking for prey. She watched as it found a mouse, and dived, almost soundlessly, to capture it, then it flew off.

A couple of foxes came out of the woods, and looked at Rose and her boulder. They cautiously circled her, from a safe distance. Rose spoke to the wild magic, “Language,” and the magic responded and translated everything the foxes said to each other into words Rose could understand.

“What is that?”

“A fairy. A young one at that.”

“Don’t they sleep at night? In houses?”

“Yes. This is strange.” The fox on the left stood on its hind legs and twitched its ears. “Wild magic! She can hear us!”

The other fox screamed, “You’re telling me this now?” and raced back into the forest.

250 Words

It’s Week 514 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the stories in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up every week.