Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Picture Short Story

I haven't posted here in a while, because I am really working on a new writing blog I started with some friends. If you haven't graced us with your presence yet, please do.

If You Give a Girl a Pen is aimed at helping writers achieve their goals. Where this one is more my journey. Things I do to keep the creative juices flowing.

So today, I will post a picture and write. Anyone who would like to join me, may post their story in the comment section.

Kali stood in the background, watching as Hiyem followed Paui. Today, Hiyem was meant for another. The Gelse waited at the gate for allowance into the village. Once granted, Hiyem and Amua would start their ten day journey to the lands of Bale. If they returned, they would be husband and wife.

Hiyem gazed at Kali for a long moment before he turned away. Kali knew he did not wish this for himself, or for her. She knew Paui had offered him in return of ten woluks and four bazen. With grazers that bred, Zimza could feed its people for many years. Hiyem had been sold to a man with a daughter no one else wanted.

Tears fell onto Kali’s cheek. She held her stomach, the start of a life that would

know no father. The start of a life of ridicule and castoff. Maybe she would be sold as well.

This picture found here.


Liz said...

His cold, charcoal eyes made my frame shake with fear. Fear and disgrace. The white headband that caught my gaze only reemphasized the trouble I had caused.

My father—the village Elder.

Memories flashed through my head. Out in the fields, checking the crops before a storm. The night his mother passed. His eyes had held the same pain I saw before me today. Those memories would have to suffice. I would be making no new ones here now.

I held his gaze as long as was bearable, before turning away.

Nava’s arm came to my waist as mine rose to her slender shoulders. Her head hung almost as low as mine. Even though I was a cubit taller.

Without thinking, my other hand went to the swell of her belly. It was hardly visible—though that was what allowed us to remain in our homes for so long. Now that her ‘burden’ was more pronounced, we were forced to leave.

“Ani ohevet otcha, Teo.” Her deep brown eyes rose to my face, searching for comfort I supposed.

I squeezed her shoulders and pressed my lips to her ebony hair. “And I love you, Nava.”

Sarah Jensen said...

whoo Liz. I love that!