Tell the Story: Sinha

His roar of pain could still be heard across the jungle plains

Pursued by the ignoble poachers his strength is waning

They’d taken his mother, her life for their illicit gains

Tilting his magnificent head he listens, they’re gaining

His lone topaz eye, the other lost in battles past, gleams

His ancient cunning conjures what it instinctively known

Evil men won’t take his life; he enters the space of dreams

He offers himself, worthless, as his body turns to stone.

Written in response to the tag from Rory and the Tell the Story Challenge. The rules state that I must now tag 3 other bloggers to tell a story based on my chosen picture which is below. However, when there is fun to be had I like to share it with as many people as possible so I’m giving an open invitation to anyone who loves writing short stories:

 

Tell the Story Challenge #5

Do you remember those days we spent in the meadow behind our little house? They are so clear to me. We would open the door as soon as the sun’s rays brought a glow to the kitchen wall; turn out heads and wait for Mother to give her smiling nod of approval and then we were off! We would try to catch the little motes that winked at us in the summer light and turn cartwheels for the sheer pleasure of being upside down. Do you remember?

I can almost smell the scent of wild flowers, it would cling to us and our socks would bear the stains of subtle pollen as we ran, legs moving so fast we felt sure that we could fly. We jumped and span, danced and skipped all the way to the stream and there what fun we would have! Splashing and laughing until we thought we would burst. Then we would sit and pluck at blades of grass, chewing the ends until sweet nectar was released. I wonder though, did it taste as sweet as the jam sandwiches we made for our expedition?

As the gentle bees buzzed over our heads and the light played in the trees and dappled our faces we would sometimes doze, tired after our play. Close together, breathing slowed and we would dream of our meadow, our childish sanctuary, until a stray ant or persistent wasp awoke us from our reverie. What days were these! So simple. Hours spent searching for a round pebble or a four-leaf clover, practicing handstands or tucking our heads and gleefully rolling. Do you remember?

Those days are gone now; the meadow is still there and our stream but we no longer play as we once did. The time for play is over and the time for study must begin. I am told I will make new friends and will laugh with them as we once did, together but I cannot imagine it will be the same. You were my only friend for so many warm summer days, how can I leave you behind? Tuck yourself up, snugly in my suitcase Teddy, we’re off to have an adventure……….

Written in response to the lovely Sadje’s photo prompt

Lisa x