It was a lovely surprise to see that our intrepid leader Rochelle had used my photo as the prompt for Friday Fictioneers this week. It was taken in Barcelona, walking from Port Vell towards the Monument to Columbus. I love the feel of Barcelona, the bustle and atmosphere, we had a very enjoyable time there, though as you can see the weather could have been better…
Copyright – Dee Lovering
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
John, ‘The Immigrant’
‘She’s with her family, leave her be.’
‘They took her from me, but I’ll find her.’
‘John, it’s been a year, she could be married. Please, we need you. ‘
‘No! I need her!’
The pursuit of religious freedom led many Puritans to the shores of New England. It wasn’t religion that sent John westwards, though the long journey afforded him time to reflect on it and the argument with his parents. He had defied them and left them to struggle. But the moment he had laid eyes on Dorcas Coleman, he wanted her; nothing would stand in his way.
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A brief note on my story. One of my ancestors sailed to New England in 1625 to join the colony of English Puritans who had settled there. He was one of the first settlers of Rowley Mass. and did marry Dorcas Coleman in 1648. I have used some poetic licence with their meeting, but I feel it goes someway to explain why he made the journey alone. Although another ancestor, also called John, settled in Virginia, in all the research the man in my story is called ‘John, The Immigrant’ hence my title.
Quote for the day…
‘Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed with the things that you didn’t do than with the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.’
Copyright Douglas MacIlroy
Word Count: 100
Home at Last
The ties that bound me were severed so long ago, I have forgotten why. The cold seeps into my bones, forming a brittle frost. The gnawing emptiness in my stomach would signal hunger to a brain able to care or respond.
The light surprises me, it’s intense and blinding. A flashlight means police and an order to ‘move on, get out of here.’ But this light is too strong and never wavers. As a whisper of summer fills my nostrils and glides sweetly over my tongue, I think I am smiling.
I am held tight.
I am home, at last.
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My thanks to Doug MacIlroy for the photo prompt that sent chills this week and to Rochelle for continuing to lead the Friday Fictioneers whilst getting her novel edited and now ready for publication, many congratulations. You can read more below and on her website
‘Beginning on April 20 Please Say Kaddish For Me will be available to preorder from Kindle in ebook form and to preorder from http://www.a-argusbooks.com/GalleryComing.htm in print form. Release date scheduled for May 8′.
The photo this week, courtesy of Jen Pendergast, reminded me of a visit to Canada a few year ago. We wanted to take a train back from Edmonton to Calgary and were told that no passenger trains ran from north to south, only west to east. On the drive back, we watched the longest freight train we have ever seen, mile, after mile, after mile and reflected that Canada was indeed a vast country.
Thanks to Jen for the photo and to Rochelle the conductor of Friday Fictioneers, collecting more and more writers each week.
Copyright Jen Pendergast
Word Count: 100
Stella took the subway. Seeking the protection of strangers, she slowly made her way through the crowd. People grew restless as the train approached; she felt pressure in the small of her back, then heard the familiar menacing voice near her ear. As she was forced forward the crowd parted, as she stumbled they watched in horror as a figure tripped over her.
Stella watched impassively as the remains of her husband were collected and bagged. She remembered his threats, what he would do to her if ever she tried to leave him, and smiled at the vagaries of fate.
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