, , ,

She’s making friends. Already.

It’s been only a few weeks. So little time, so many changes. The people are strange, but at least they don’t shoot at us.

My little girl goes to school. It’s the law. And now she brought home a boy. Where she’s dark, he’s fair – blond and pale like all of them, grey eyes lowered. She pulls him inside. “This is Nils. We’ll do homework together.” He looks confused, uncomfortable.

She changes to Swedish, gestures. “My dad,” I guess she says. He bows, stretches out a hand.

“Hallå,” I say. The only word I know.

Written for the 99-words-flash-fiction-challenge on the Carrot Ranch:

February 23, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a migration story. It can imagine the dusty or arctic trails of the frontiers past or look to the travel across the galaxy. What issue about modern migration bans might influence an artistic expression in a flash? Migrate where the prompt leads you.

Just scary


, , , ,

“It’s not really dangerous, Johnny,” Grit says. She sounds certain, a little exasperated, but her grip on his hand is firm. “They just want to scare us.”

In their back, the meadow is flooded in sunlight, so bright it drowns out the colours. Before them, a narrow path leads beneath the canopy, curving out of sight after a few steps.

“Danger, keep out!” the sign says, black letters on flaking white background, the red border stark contrast to the hazy green beyond. Grit regards it for a moment, then makes the first step into the shadows. The chill is a relief.

“‘m hungry,” Johnny mumbles, hours later. He still holds her hand, trusting.

“Soon,” she says.

The clearing smells like Christmas – cinnamon, ginger, vanilla. The hut is made of cookies and confections.

“See?” Grit says. “They just want to scare us.”

Johnny smiles. His sister is always right.

First published on
Prompt: “sign”
max. 150 Words