Sunday Photo Fiction – Lady Thalassa

50 03 March 9th 2014

Copyright – Al Forbes

Another entry for Sunday Photo Fiction. Click the link to find instructions for submitting your own stories and to read other people’s submissions. Didn’t submit anything last week as I was preparing for a job interview that was south of London. (South of London? To a northerner like me, it might as well be a different country.) Going past all the flooded fields on the train was a source of inspiration for this story. 😉

As a child, I never saw winter. You may have heard that there are places in this land which are impervious to the changing seasons. I was born and raised in one such place.

The forest south of Karob has a centre that’s near impossible to penetrate. The foliage is as thick as the walls which guard this kingdom. If your nurse or mother told you fairy tales, she may have described the garden of the water goddesses. Did they describe the trees that never lost their leaves? The turquoise fountain warmed by a never-retreating sun?

I was never the same as the other child-sprites. I was somewhat more opaque. I could never meld into my natural surroundings or hold conversations with the river like they could. I was glad when my father came to collect me on my sixteenth birthday.

Unfortunately, there was no place for a bastard child like me in court, even a half goddess. It wasn’t until the floods came that they began referring to me as “Lady”.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Awkward Goodbyes

44 01 January 26th 2014

Copyright – Al Forbes

Sunday Photo Fiction time again. Please click here to find out more!

We’re dragged downstream by the current. Flowing with the water, we don’t need social graces to feel graceful. We’re proceeding on a journey we didn’t decide to make. We glory in the effortless momentum that terrifies and excites us.

We see the river disappear in the distance, and our smiles falter because if we don’t climb onto land, we’ll fall and never see this place again. We don’t know how deep the drop is. We don’t know if there are rocks at the bottom.

But we have a vague suspicion it will feel good to plummet down the waterfall together. A terrible, dangerous, beautiful idea.

It will probably hurt a lot.

With that in mind, we grab the riverbank on opposite sides and pull ourselves to safety.

Cold and wet, we stare at each other for the longest time across the water, further apart than ever. We exchange sad, lethargic smiles before we turn away.

Our goodbyes are always awkward.