White Stag- 3 Line Tales

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There was always a shift in the air before the white stag appeared. A silver-edged dissonance that ran up her spine and made her temples throb. This time was no different. As she stood, balancing the buckets she’d filled in the Lake, languid snowflakes began to fall, covering the graying grasses around her.  It’s only once each year, she reassured herself. She tilted her head and caught her reflection in the water: two black eyes gazed back at her, framed by majestic, shimmering antlers. Where she’d stood, an emerald hue emerged within the grass, and it followed translucent footprints to the village.

© Nadia Brown

Glad to be participating in Sonya’s 3 Line Tales!

Photo by Rebecca Johnson

Harvest – tlt week 24

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Hanging in the air

The sweet, raw smells of harvest

Fading in the sun

© Nadia Brown

Farm and country – and all the smells, textures, sounds that go along with them – are my happy place. Born and raised in the city, the constrained bustle of it has always felt confining; it’s never been ‘home’.

Thank you, Sonya, for this 3 Line Tales weekly photo prompt!

Photo by Emiel Molenaar, who has some gorgeous photos on his website!!

The Commute – 3 Line Tales

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There was always such exquisiteness in leaving; an aching tug that rose from the depths and made her smile against her will. She hesitated on the dock, boarding pass in hand, discerning the clinking buoys beneath the pier from the steady hum of the ferry’s engine. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the water tugging against the pier from below. The gentleness of wave against wood belied the force with which it would spit the dock from its moorings and send it ass over tea kettle into the Pacific. If it wanted to. For a moment, she stood in awe at the raw power she rarely questioned. The ocean that could silence a pier, a vessel, a life – lapped with a calm indifference at her feet. It was the indifference, she decided, that kept her coming back. Not this time. This time, she’d brought her things -and left him sleeping in a cloud of his own stupor.

Without a word, she settled her bag around her shoulders and headed to the ramp to board. Soon, the clinking of the buoys would fade amidst the chatter of morning commuters, disappearing completely as she waited in line to purchase her return.

© Nadia Brown

Check out 100 words or less‘s weekly “3 Line Tales” weekly photo prompt. Join in the fun!

Photo by Charlie Hang

The Rhythm of Things – 3LineTales

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All these things I haven’t done, packed neatly into their dark, square drawers. Cramped and contained, awaiting their turn. One thing at a time, my teachers always said. Patience! Gently! Too many at once and the whole system topples. Follow the system; follow the priorities.

I tap tap tap the little squares. Gently, in rhythm. Like a metronome. Tap tap tap, as though they were piano keys. Softly, my piano teacher used to say. Gently –  imagine you have boneless hands. And my boneless heels tap tap the rhythm – until all the things I haven’t done are flying wild and free. Staccato! The music said. Presto agitato!  Which I do think means a good swift kick.

© Nadia Brown

Check out 3 Lines Tales weekly photo challenge , hosted by Sonya at 100 Words or Less. Join in!!

Photo by Rosan Harmens

Unsportsmanlike conduct – 3LinesTales

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Whack, whack, shuffle, clatter, stomp! The chaos of a thousand feet rang in her ears and she tried to drown it out by singing louder.

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm!  Cautiously, she worked her way to the edge of the crowd, fighting against flailing arms and the droplets of sweat that filled her senses. Get me out of here! She knew this many limbs spelled danger. Whoosh! A sudden thump on her back propelled her off the road. She let out a sharp cry, tumbling unceremoniously across the median. Once she’d caught her breath, she recognized the softness around her.  Peonies!  With a deep sigh, she extended her tongue and sucked in the sweet, sweet nectar.

© Nadia Brown

Check out Sonya’s 3 Lines Tales weekly photo prompt and join in!

Photo by Martin Zemlickis

In the beginning – 3LineTales

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In the beginning, there was everything. It defied description, spanning all dimensions and all facets of possibility. But we insisted that it take shape; some form that we could grasp, manipulate, and order – forgetting to dissolve into it entirely, which would have ultimately served us better. Such are some days… good morning; here goes another!

 

Check out Sonya’s 3 Lines Tales weekly challenge! It’s fun to participate and see everyone else’s interpretation of her weekly photo prompt. 🙂

The photo is by NASA – see Sonya’s post (link above) for the full link.

Lemonade

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This is part of Sonya’s 3 Line Tales weekly prompt! Photo by Erol Ahmed.

She paused at the wooden box overflowing with lemons. Their scent always reminded her of home. But then again – it was never quite right; there was something missing, every time. Maybe the ocean sounds, maybe the distinct belligerence of the Costa Brava gulls. Something that kept the memories just beyond her reach. Hmm…she toyed with the fruit, picking one up and then another, gently pressing the flesh between her fingers. With a sigh, she motioned to the stall proprietor. He raised his head from his magazine and began to place lemons into a paper bag.

“Just a few,” she nodded. “For lemonade.”

 

 

3 Line Tales -The Bridge

photo-1459421458614-23811a6d188bEvery year, he marvelled at the magnificence that bloomed around the bridge in that very spot. Despite the devastation they had witnessed, despite the acid anger that had railed upon them a decade ago, the bushes flowered as faithfully as he held his yearly vigil. Perhaps they sensed his presence.

© Nadia Brown, 2016

This is part of Sonya’s 3 Lines Tales – 100 words or less inspired by a weekly photo prompt!