still-life-with-doug100-word Flash Fiction. #FridayFictioneers 

A story inspired by this photo provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

The alarm clock shattered the silence of the early morning darkness. Likewise, the remnants of her dream splintered into a thousand tiny shards. She tried to collect the fragments in her mind and piece them together.

All that remained, however, was cold dread.

She leaped to the window and threw open the painted shutters, the ocean had receded more in the night, leaving only abandoned shells, worn stones, white-washed driftwood, and tons of garbage.

Another truck carried a family’s treasures down the dusty road.

She was last to leave.

Her art would have to stay. It meant nothing any more.



Favorite Friday Feedback (F3) from last week’s #FF story goes to Alisha at See what follows my story.

First of all, she was bold enough to let me know about a small editorial issue in my story, which just goes to show that is difficult sometimes to edit your own writing — and I’m an editor… Ooops! Thanks Alisha.

Second of all her simple one-line comment “Art in any form is a blessing” is so true and struck a chord with me (so to speak). In my story, I wanted to convey just that and the fact (as you’ll see in another comment response) that not everyone is good at everything. We all have something we’re good at. Sometimes it’s obvious at an early age and sometimes we seek it for much of our life. Sometimes we overlook the one thing that we’re good at and sometimes we envy someone else’s talent. I tend to think that most of us are an artist of some kind. Perhaps we write poetry, write stories, paint pictures, sketch moments in time, play music, sing songs, create arts and crafts, or take photographs. The list is endless. I believe we all have a need to create and should strive to free our imaginations. We should always retain a child’s sense of imagination and play. Art is, indeed, a grand blessing. Do it. Enjoy it. Be thankful for it.

A gift is not a gift until you share it with someone. –Caerlynn Nash



12 thoughts on “Endangered

  1. the remnants of her dream splintered into a thousand tiny shards – Isn’t this EXACTLY what our dreams do and when we try to collect those pieces they scatter even more. This story leaves one feeling a bit abandoned – well done.

    1. Yes, so true and sometimes so frustrating. Abandoned is a good word for this story — at many levels. You could say we (society) have abandoned the earth, and she has abandoned her home and her art, and her dreams may have abandoned her. Thanks for reading.

  2. I’m very familiar with fruitlessly trying to collect what’s left of my dreams into a coherent whole, and only being left with a sense of dread, with no real idea why.
    It’s sad that she no longer feels her art has any meaning.

  3. I was fixed by ” the ocean had receded more in the night” and the image of a truck carrying belongings away and her being the last to leave seemed verging on apocalyptic. Nicely done.

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