Time again for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. Follow the link and join in the fun.
Original Photo : Roger Bultot
They said they were just stories, tales to lull the young to sleep when the black wind raised its rancid breath.
The elders told of a place where the water was so pure, just one drop could make the smallest seed bloom. Where the air was so fresh that people sang and laughed till they were intoxicated in its scent and streets of gold, so vivid in colour, that even the glowing sun seemed to pale in adulation.
Just stories they said.
Yet here.
Now.
At journey’s end.
I can smell the scent of happiness and I know they were not just stories.
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Sounds like the kind of paradise we’re getting further and further away from.
I like the way you break up the story at the end, it’s very effective.
I love this idea of paradise!
A very uplifting story. Well done.
It’s good to know it exists somewhere! Or possibly I just thought you might be talking of the afterlife, reading “journey’s end” differently. Great piece either way!
Lovely story and title.
Splendid story … what an intoxicating scent it must be!
Alas only at journey’s end… what a wonderful sense in such an end, but I would have before it’s time to rest.
Lovely, Helen. I hope the stories are true, too.
The irony and reflective telling, lends a powerful edge to this story, Helen. Nice job!