A story in 100 words for Friday Fictioneers
He sat cross legged on a tree
stump, in one hand a piece of willow and the other a shiny pocket knife.
One day she dropped it as
she as she bid him farewell.
She saw neither her whistle nor him again
Each day she walks among
the trees seeking the stump near which one passionate summer’s day she lost her
little wooden whistle.
Picture:Frost on a stump.Sandra Crook.
Lovely tale with slightly surreal undertones.
ReplyDeleteDear Keith,
ReplyDeleteA sweet, wistful tail. Hope she finds the whistle.
shalom,
Rochelle
Beautifully told. Hope she finds the whistle. And why isn't he making another one?
ReplyDeleteThere's a wistfulness in this story, as though it might secretly be being told by the boy (or nimph) in the story. I fear love based on such conditions might be bound to fail.
ReplyDeleteNice little fairy tale.
ReplyDeleteThere's something about that whistle.... great story!
ReplyDeleteI love tone of a fairy tale in this.. hope the whistle can be reclaimed
ReplyDeleteHow beautiful, and sad. These fairy lovers are always so elusive.
ReplyDeleteI get such a sense of regret in this. I fear she has no hope of regaining what she threw away - a lost opportunity.
ReplyDeleteA really haunting little story - well done.
ReplyDeleteI think he should just come back to see what happened. :-) Just because I love happy endings.
ReplyDeletejanet