Category Archives: friday fiction

friday fiction in fifteen ~ from thy balcony

 

march from thy balcony friday fic in 15

Today’s fiction in fifteen is actually a poem. I imagine a beloved on the balcony with the loved below, expresses her heart. enjoy!

{a letter from a loved, to her beloved}

My beloved ~

I awoke with you again on my mind

And greeted the day as one searching.

Where are you my love? And when will I next breathe in your scent?

Only for you do I rise, only for your amorous words do I face what’s next.

My feet move forward, and they take me places,

places that I never thought to wander.

Yet here I am, gazing up at the balcony on which you once appeared to me.

Searching for you once again.

My passion for you burns, and I recall your words of love,

Your words of promise.

A promise of a future, and your never ending love to guide me.

And to that promise I hold, each day looking for you,

for the day you will come for me.

There you stand, on the balcony of our first encounter,

waiting for me, just as you promised you would.

I see you, and you see me seeing.

I look for a way to you, steps to reach your side,

To receive what is mine ~ your love.

For I am yours

and you are mine.

Forever in a passionate embrace.

Your turn!  Set your timer to 15 minutes and write from your heart. Write a poem, write a letter, begin a great piece of fiction!  I would love to see what passions this picture creates.

Leave a comment!  And if you have written something about this picture, I would love to see it!

Lisa

Today I have a post on a beautiful life called “A Passion Unleashed” I’d love for you to stop by and check it out!

Read it here: A Passion Unleashed

Advertisements

Friday fiction in fifteen ~ ordinary miracles

february ordinary miracles

http://wp.me/s45h2I-fatigue

A big thanks to Paul for taking such inspiring photos!

Here’s your picture for today. What story does this picture tell you? set your timer to 15 (or 30….whatever works for you) and write!

Here’s mine:

Ordinary Miracles

The Phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

As soon as one call ended, another would take its place, the melodious song becoming nothing but a clanging cymbal to my ears. I navigated skillfully through the city streets with my internal auto-pilot on high alert – no time to think about steps now.  I simply needed to get to the board room for an early morning meeting.

Shifting the weight of the pack I wore to the other shoulder, my feet carried me around the corner of an old building, eyes still diverted from the path in front of me. Miraculously I had not yet collided with the sea of humanity that hurried around me toward their own destinations. Like bats flying in diming light, we successfully avoided the other’s path.

Till my feet stuck solid.

As my hands flew out to break the inevitable fall that awaited me, the cursed ringing phone struck cement; forever silencing its cry. I wasn’t even upset. But as my hands found earth, along with knees, hip, and shoulder during a truly acrobatic roll, I wondered what I had done to deserve this interruption. I would be late now for sure, and I couldn’t even call to let them know why.

As I righted myself onto my behind, I looked to see what had caused me to stumble. There on the sidewalk, close to the corner of the building, was a man. A sleeping man. I wondered for a moment then if he even lived, for he had not even flinched at my shoe finding his body. Slowly I crawled over to the inert body, and peered into his face. His eyes were tightly closed to the increasing morning light, and I wasn’t sure that I should bother him at all.

I cleared my throat loudly, hoping that this would garner his attention, then possibly I could offer an apology for my misstep.  But the phlegmy din did nothing to stir him. I sat down beside him and reached tentatively for his arm, which lay peacefully across his midsection. Then wrapping my fingers around his wrist, felt for the pulse indicating life. It was faint, but strong, so I breathed a sigh of relief.  As many years as I had lived in the city, I had never before encountered a dead body, and I certainly did not want to gain that experience now.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently shook. “Sir”, I said, “are you alright?”  Please be alright, I prayed silently too. I saw his eyelid flicker minutely, but only a small crack appeared, then closed again. Looking around for help, I noticed that the commuting people on the street passed us by as though we were not even there. And I wondered dimly, how long this poor man lay here with no a single person taking notice. Day’s maybe?

I scooped my arm underneath his, and the smell of unwashed body wafted up from the openings in his filthy coat. Still, I garnered all my strength and sat him up against the building fascia. As he sat supporting his own weight, he opened his eyes, and stared at me in wonder.  He did not speak, but his eyes said all. “Why are you helping me?” they asked.

A compassion filled my heart. And reaching for my phone that lie broken a few feet away, I dialed.  “Sarah, could you please make me a reservation at my usual spot near the office?” I had often stayed in a room near work when I had large projects, and looming deadlines. The seclusion and quiet was a balm to my soul, and I found that I could gain the peace that I often missed in those times.  “And order an array of breakfasts to be sent to the room as soon as they can prepare them.”

My eyes never left the man who sat before me. He almost looked fearful now as I spoke, but my gaze must have reassured him of genuine intent, for his eyes closed again. “Yes, I know I’m supposed to be in the meeting. Please make my apologies, and let them know that I will check in a bit later to explain. Thank you Sarah.”

Hanging up, I glanced toward the street and raised my hand to hail a cab. As one pulled to the side, I gathered all the strength I could muster, and helped the man limp to the curb. The cab driver gave me a curious look which was quickly turning angry as I sat the man inside. I reassured him quickly that I would be accompanying my companion. He was wary, but turned around,  and as I relayed our destination to him, he began to pull away.

“You’re going to be okay.” I said to the man beside me. Then looking out the window in front of me, I reassured myself, “You’re going to be okay.”

Let me know how you like the story, and if you wrote one, I would love to read it! Leave a comment below!

 

Friday: fiction in fifteen – a canopy of promise

canopy

http://wp.me/p45h2I-6yF picture by paul militaru

Snow seems to be everywhere these days….I figure that if I can’t get away from it, I will write about it!  So here is my fiction in Fifteen:

___________________

A Canopy of Promise

Snow covered branches form a canopy of protection over the trail carrying my feet toward a hopeful future. I step carefully upon its rock strewn surface, remembering the shaky beginnings of this chapter of life. The struggles were a fading distant memory, but ones that I dared not forget, lest they be repeated and the lessons learned – forgotten.

The lengthy hem of my cloak dragged upon the uneven earth, and caught mercilessly on exposed rocks, creating tears, like those of my heart freshly healed.  Its blood red velvet closed around the wounds, sealing the evidence, as did the blood shed upon the soil of my life.

My hands lift the heft.

Step carefully.

Remember.

Trees thin and open wide to reveal a hopeful expanse. A white edifice grows from the center, reflecting a promise kept, if only I step upon its foundation.

Feet sure.

Breathe.

Smiles greet mine and hands reach for my cloak: the torn and mended heart which I shed gratefully, revealing a pure white promise, one worn upon my transformed life.

A new road lay before me. One of sacrifice and trial, but also of receiving both truth and love. Each step forward proclaims commitment, and trust. But mostly a faith in the promise made. A promise from God… and man.

My man.

With each footfall my heart remembers the love. Each step taken, renews the commitment. And at the end of the trail, a new one begins, and I fall to my knees in supplication. A desperate prayer for a desire to serve the one I love, and the strength to see it through.

To shed the “me” in favor of the “us”.

One.

Forever.

No matter what.

This is the promise that I hold in my heart.

And it feeds my soul.

_______________________

Thanks for reading!  If you would like to read more, I have a devotional running on a beautiful life that speaks to the wisdom of dating and its power for a renewed commitment. I would love for you to stop by there and be filled!  Read it here: http://wp.me/p2zb9s-1ZE

Now it’s your turn!  Set your timer’s to 15 minutes and write from your heart!

 

 

Friday: Fiction in Fifteen – Gathering Storm”

january friday fic in fif 2

http://wp.me/p45h2I-6ug 

[check out Paul's site at the link above! Thanks Paul!]

Isn’t this picture great? It elicits so many emotions within me as I study its depth. And as we all know, emotion is what inspires story!

So have at it! Set your timers for 15 minutes [if you need longer- no worries, take your time] Contemplate the possibilities before you begin to write.  If you do write something, we would love to see it!  Even the first sentence would be great.

I hope you are as inspired by this picture as I am!

Here is my piece:

A Gathering Storm

 A low, deep rumble reverberated through the gathering clouds above . The slow, persistent growl rolled through me and collected in the pit of my belly, churning its contents into a soup of anxiety. How fitting for a morning such as this. Consternation had been my friend for the better part of a year, and its culmination an approaching leviathan.

I averted my eyes of the rumble’s call, choosing instead to focus on the quickly waning strength within me to advance my steps. Squeezing my eyes tight, I asked for more; more strength, more hope. And then less too. Less of the fear and trepidation that threatened to consume me. The dread that I was experiencing only increased with the gathering storm, building to a certain crescendo. Its progress reflected the pattern of recent days, marked by a knowing.  

Morning always brought with it reality. The dreams of my sleep-state had become my refuge; where I felt happiest in the midst of confusion and despair. But each morning the same knowing: the inevitable judgement that we would face, together he and I. Judgement brought on by our own misdeeds. Choices that all led back to here.  I couldn’t be angry with anyone but myself, really.  There was no one to plead with, no begging would stay this decree. I wouldn’t even try. I couldn’t.

I asked for more courage, more strength. Not to deliver me from what was inevitable, but to prop up my shaky steps. No, I would take my punishment as it came, reap the consequences that I wove into the fabric of my life. Nobody’s fault but my own. After the chips fell, and the guilt washed clean from my soul, maybe then I would feel worthy. No, I’ll never be worthy, I felt that deep within. But to find myself back in the grace of God, was a gift I could not embrace now. Now was a time to weather the storm of my own making.

And then wait for a deliverance.

So what did you write in fifteen?  please leave a comment, if only to encourage us to keep writing!

friday: fiction in fifteen ~ “hope feels”

hope feelshttp://wp.me/p45h2I-6qc “Hope sees the Invisible, Feels the Intangible, and achieves the Impossible.”

a great big thank you to paul militaru who takes such wonderful and inspiring pictures! Check out his site at the link above!

So – five minutes is just not long enough to write a creative short piece of fiction….for me anyway! I just love to create short pieces based on pictures; to contemplate what is going on between the lines. I would love to see what you have written during our friday ficiton segments.  Send me a message or post it in the comments..  Write for 5 or 15 – your choice! the point is to keep inspired and writing! Here is my story:

“Hope Feels”

by: lisa evola

I looked through the frost etched window at the shivering bird perched upon the ledge of my prison.

My prison. One of my own making really. I had been given choices. Choices to do the right thing, to admit my error and therefore join with the rest of the group in what they considered playful respite. I didn’t want it; the playfulness. I preferred instead to wallow in my misfortune, to breathe the frigid air of separation and guilt. I chose to sit, exposed and trembling, much like the sparrow outside the window now.

Like me, he has lost hope. He is unable to see the possibility of shelter all around him.  Shelter that would certainly thaw the blood slowing in his veins, that which would save the life so precariously balanced on that ledge. Life has a way of doing that; driving hope from an open wound in the heart. And so I close it up tight, so that not even a fractured ray can penetrate it. Then sit staring out, blinded to the light reflected there, the light that could achieve the impossible. Seeing only what my stony heart sees, which is but cold, icy frost covering all that I had once known as good.

I see the shivering sparrow. I see it still; its downy feathers puffed out to the elements, protectively encompassing his soon to be stony heart. Like mine. And a single tear runs down my cheek, the first in months. The tear clears a path through the skin, washing away the smudges left by careless word and deed. And a trail of heat is left, warming what is beneath. I touch my finger carefully to the tear, and as I pull it away from my face, more come. At first just a few, but then a river flows, ever widening the chasm. It washes my face, my heart – my soul. And as the tears soundlessly pour, I crank open the casement and reach for the tiny frozen sparrow. He does not resist my warm hands, but sits shaking intermittently in them.

Tucking him inside the opening of my sweatshirt, I coo, tears still falling. Falling from me to the bird at my breast, each drop causing him to flinch, then still again. Then he sees it, as I do too. The invisible. The intangible. The tears that would achieve the impossible.

To feel again.