§ Rebekah says: Welcome back (especially to those of you NaNo’ing last month—we missed you!)! Here at Fire&Ice we’re racing like a frenzied flash hurricane toward the end of our run. Today (Sol 17) & next week (Sol 18) are our final two regular contests. Sol 19, Friday December 18, is our Fire&Ice Grand Finale. No spoilers regarding the shape of the contest itself, except to say Deb and I are judging & we’re in possession of real, hold-in-your-hands prizes for the winner! In the meantime, I can only express again our gratitude for your joining us in this reawakened little venture and helping us write through what’s left of 2020. Can’t wait to read your stories! ❤
QUESTIONS? Tweet us at @FlashFridayFic, shoot us a note here, or tap any of the judges.
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Fire&Ice Guidelines:
Time: The Fire&Ice contest is open between exactly 12:01am to 11:59pm on Fridays, Washington DC time (check the current time here). Entries submitted outside of this window are welcome, but will be incinerated ineligible to win.
How to Play: Write and submit an original story 1) based on the photo prompt and 2) including EITHER the fire dragon or ice dragon‘s requirement. Pay attention to the 3) varying word count constraints! Story titles (optional) are not included in the word limit. At the end of your story, add your name or twitter handle, whether you chose the fire or ice dragon’s element, and word count. That’s it!
Be sure to review the contest rules here.
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JUDGES: Today’s judges are Tamara Shoemaker and Eric Martell. Check out their bios on the Fire&Ice Judges page.
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AND HERE IS YOUR PROMPT:
Each Fire&Ice prompt includes 1) a photo, 2) a required element (choose between the fire dragon or ice dragon’s offering), and 3) a specific word count. Your story must include all three requirements to be eligible to win.
Photo for Sol 17/19

Summer Joy. Black Sea: Odessa, Ukraine. CC2.0 photo by Dmitry Kichenko.
Fire dragon option: Include a stolen identity
OR
Ice dragon option: Include a mistaken identity
Today’s word count: between 140-150 words
I’m sorry,
I thought you were water.
I thought we spoke to each other in waves, and currents, and depths. I believed we felt the same seasons, saw the same colors.
We would swim side by side, every so often touching, squinting in the white sunlight from above, drifting in the dark below. I taught you what I knew. It wasn’t everything.
Sometimes we were still, other times we got tossed around, but we would pull back together like strands of kelp. Free-moving, but growing from the same stalk.
There are creatures that live so deep in the ocean dark they never bother to grow eyes.
You broke the surface, and I tried to follow. But howls of wind and machinery and screeches of gulls lashed my ears.
I fell back helpless, useless, and watched you shrink to a speck, now seen, now not, retreating toward the shore, forever.
@betsystreeter
149 words
A mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 16 people
This is such beautiful, vibrant metaphor, and so cohesive throughout.
Really good.
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Thank you so much!
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Just lovely 🧡
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Thank you!
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a beautiful dreamlike tale…loved this line “There are creatures that live so deep in the ocean dark they never bother to grow eyes.”
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Thanks – that I think is my favorite too.
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This is one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve read here and I’m shocked you created something this gorgeous and abstract, with humble little grace notes, so quickly.
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Thank you – it definitely comes from *a place* so maybe that’s why it flowed out like that –
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This is one of those stories that I’ll want to come back to and read again and again and again. Brilliant.
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Amazing. Such a stong piece.
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Thank you so much!
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I stand on the cliff top. Hands in pockets. Scarf pulled tight. Look down to the waters. Swirling, thrashing, dancing this day. It’s cold arms reaching out to touch me. To have me, as it had you so greedily that afternoon. Gone to the North sea. Like a story, we would read. Except when I turn the page you don’t come back. When I read the next line, your name is missing. You’re lost and I stand here waiting. Always waiting, for that part of me to return. That part to come back. We were always finding things, do you remember? Do you recall? Back when we were inseparable. Back before. Yet now. Here. Without you. I’m lost. Wrapping my head around the missing. The thing I can’t hold onto. Still waiting. The waves crash, the water falls. Down, deep down. Gasping for breath.
@bex_spence
144 words
Fire: stolen identity
LikeLiked by 12 people
I could almost feel the despair in this write. 👏👏👏
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sleeper
Andreas died two years ago. I still think of him as Andreas.
I am weak that way.
But he was Sergei.
I was not permitted to say his true name.
Even all those years in a shared bed, I didn’t dare.
I was tempted.
He was not.
The years flew by.
We played our part.
Understudies forever.
Never called.
Cyphers.
Sleeper cyphers.
But the beginning sparkled.
In April 1980, Cuba was on lockdown. Thousands had flocked to the Peruvian Embassy.
Sergei and I had just completed our training and had been given a week’s furlough at Sochi. It was glorious. The spas, the sea, the days, and especially the nights.
That sojourn ended abruptly and in twenty-four hours we were flown to Havana.
By October, with our new identities, we were Cuban refugees sailing to America.
And then years of acclimation.
And Isolation.
And secret lives.
Public love.
Then death.
Fire dragon option: Include a stolen identity
150 words
@billmelaterplea
LikeLiked by 10 people
You packed so much into this write. Very powerful.👏👏👏
LikeLiked by 2 people
Clever use of form, here, when the magical days of the beginning are savored in a full paragraph, while the other tidbits come to us in short bullets, tinged with grief. Well done!
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She was wearin’ that face again. I called it her ‘sod off face’ ‘cos that’s what it were sayin’ loud and clear.
Loud and clear.
That photo were—wasn’t it?
Weren’t after though, were it?
Not when a million…naw—a billion sweaty eyes had swiped it, zoomed it, commented on it.
Aye. Commented.
Words like ‘glistening’ ‘n ‘goddess’ ‘n ‘ethreal’ or summat like that.
Not good with fancy words me.
But I knows the words that sting. That makes yer insides turn out. That slap you down as if yer nowt.
Damn crows. Damn their eyes. Damn their sharp beaks that bloody feasted on it.
Passin’ judgement like.
Aye. Judging.
Wrongly as it ‘appens.
It weren’t that A-lister—all of yous were jibber-jabberin’ on about—until she met her maker—were it?
Naw.
T’was ‘er with the ‘sod off face’.
@brittlewindowz
143 words
Mistaken Identity
LikeLiked by 8 people
Oops… just read this through. In my head I’m talking in my dad’s Yorkshire accent but the 5th line—a bit confusing.
‘That photo were, want it?’
The want is short for wasn’t it.
Dragon hosts – if you don’t think the meaning is clear enough – could I kindly ask you to change it. 🙏 Thanks.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I can actually hear my northern relatives, reading this 😅
Really good write. Feels Auld.
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Thanks so much. 😁🙏
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immersed in a great character voice…whether your pop’s or another…made me wonder if Hitchcock’s, The Birds, might have been a prescient comment on social media…”Damn crows. Damn their eyes. Damn their sharp beaks that bloody feasted on it. “
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Do you know I’d never thought of that—but you could be right. Thanks for the feedback which is really appreciated. 😆👍😁
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The Sea shall give up her Dead
Serge has promised he’ll take me when they leave. He doesn’t consider me inferior. I might not be the best specimen but he says I’ll have a good life with him. Can’t be any worse than what I have now. I’ll creep into his thoughts at night and steal his perfect woman.
He’s promised I’ll see sights I’ve never dreamed of. I’ve seen sights I wouldn’t share with anyone. Horrible acts because their skin colour wasn’t the same shade as mine. They killed all, apart from us greens. Not sure why, maybe it’s because we merge in with their violet hues.
Once I lived in a world of rainbow colours now there is only two. The world will soon be destroyed with a mix neither attractive nor creative, mud. He’ll beat the drum and I’ll dance to his tune until the sea washes me free.
@stellakateT
145 words
Fire: Stolen identity
LikeLiked by 13 people
Intriguing world. Makes me think of “The Shape of Water,” except a role reversal perhaps and more sinister…
LikeLiked by 3 people
Such an evocative piece! I love the way it hints at the depths of the MC’s past. The concept reminds me of LeGuin’s “The Lathe of Heaven” where the George wishes there were no racism and all the people became a uniform color of grey. The framing is lovely with the relationship between the MC and Serge.
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Her Figure…
I saw it again, today, dancing ‘mongst the waves.
An apparition, it would seem, as with hallowing of light, the moment just as surf would fall and show me who this chantment was,
Nothing…
Her figure, came again, a few times, as years passed. Each time, the same, pirouette and prance, stepping ripple to roil with grace. Such immutable grace.
The last time I saw her, darkness. A stormy night, unlike days I’d seen her fore. This time, not prance or pirouette, a thumping, tribal, rhythmic dance, conjuring primality, that made the rolling of the water sing and pound, cacophony of scream and gentle, dulcet sound.
Without light, I saw her, truly. Strange, that darkness bore lumination.
It haunts me, still, for she was I. My face, but empty eyes and mouth, abyss betwixt expanse.
I’ve never swam the ocean, since, for fear, that I might, too, start to dance.
Title: Her Figure…
Fire Dragon – Stolen Identity
150 words (+2 for title)
@ProssPeaks
LikeLiked by 11 people
Official Retcon;
‘That I might, too, start to dance’
Proof. Reading. Is. Important.
150 words, if the judges would be so kind.
Though no love lost, if not 💙
LikeLiked by 3 people
How you pull and lull us in only to send a cracking chill down the spine with the image: “for she was I. My face, but empty eyes and mouth”–well done!
p.s. wish granted ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Deborah!
I don’t often write ‘Horror’, though happy with this.
And much appreciated 🙏
*Stops rubbing lamp*
LikeLiked by 1 person
a lovely long view of time and memory…
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Thank you 🙏
I wasn’t sure whether the change in tense from ‘Nothing…’ would be obvious enough not to read strangely, though hopefully your comment means my doubts were misplaced.
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Love the longing in the mystery, that turns into fear upon the revelation. Then, the closing line digs the dread of the revelation deeper into the gut. Incredible!
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Thank you so much 💙 I missed this at the time.
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OCEAN LAMENT
Like a spider feels a jerk in its web, he felt a stir in his being.
He danced around her, showering her in diamonds.
He caressed her silvered skin with his fingertips.
He whispered ancient secrets.
And when she did not succumb, he scooped her in a gentle lilt, showed her the shore, showed her the horizon, held her as broken mirrors played on their backs, crowned her with sunlit seaweed.
He took her to the deep where, under the mosaiced still, he and his mermaid would sleep.
But she was a flaw in his green glass. Not a mermaid, but a maiden.
As she bleached and flaked, he wept at his mistake, and forever washed her bones wedged in his bed.
@helen_laycock
122 words
Ice Dragon: Mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 13 people
The poetry of this whole piece is breath-taking, Helen, but I especially love that last image: “forever washed her bones wedged in his bed.” The melancholy of a sincere love that literally cannot be. ❤
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Thank you so much, Deborah. So pleased that you enjoyed it.
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Love it Helen. 👏👏👏
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Thank you, Laurence. 🙂
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Beautifully haunting. Traipsed a difficult line with the connotations of predatory and obsessive nature, and managed to come off as a myth-like tone, somehow still quite sweet.
I like this a lot.
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Thank you, prosspeaks. I was aiming somehow for dark and beautiful. Glad that came across. 🙂
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grand images, Helen, beautifully sorrowful…
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Thank you, my friend.
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Absolutely glorious imagery! I especially love “broken mirrors played on their backs” and “mosaic still”. Brilliant capture.
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Thank you so much!
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Something in the Lake
That night, there was a light in the sky over the lake. No one saw what splashed down. The silver shape was too smooth to be a meteor.
The water was warm and welcoming. The frogs, disturbed by the splash, watched as the silver pod sunk among the waterlilies. And they saw what emerged from the water, blooming like a lotus flower, the black shape against the indigo sky. Water spangled in moonlight, eyes gleamed. The frogs fell silent.
All summer there were rumors of something in the lake.
I thought of my best friend, Angie, many summers ago, how she drowned in the lake. Something dragged her down. They found her later, like Ophelia floating among the reeds.
The lake is filled with unrequited love. All the drowned girls and lost boys. I have seen something in the lake, something rising in the moonlight.
@voimaoy
145 words
ice dragon–mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 11 people
Weaving magic into the everyday is your gift, Voima, and it shows up again and again in your stories. This is no exception. The juxtaposition of a mysterious pod alongside soft waterlilies and curious frogs is just lovely and captivating.
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I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Thank you!
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There is so much music in this one! Water spangled in moonlight, Ophelia in the reeds… The line about the lake being filled with unrequited love is so poignant.
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What wonderful comments. Thank you!
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Your writing is pure gold. So smooth and poetic; almost effortless.
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And I so love your beautiful writing, dear Firdaus. Thank you! 🙏🏽
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“Neptune” and “Sedna”
I spent a lot of my childhood holidays watching out for the fantastical and rarely believed in the area around my grandparents’ house. After devouring their books on the matter, I would head out to see what I could see.
After reading the love story of Neptune and Sedna, the first Sea Imps, or Seamps, I became obsessed with spotting one of these mysterious creatures. I would sit on the beach through summer evenings, trying to spot them popping up.
One time I did. And they were screaming in pain.
Into the water I dove, out I swam as quickly as I could.
So sure I had been of my Seamp.
Yet all I found was another gangly youth, who could swim underwater a curiously long way.
I helped her to the shore, bound missing fingers with my shirt, took her to hospital.
And so this Neptune met her Sedna.
@jamesatkinson81
150 Words
Ice dragon option: Include a mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 11 people
Love how you’ve twisted mythology into a modern love story. I hope our Sedna fares better with this new lover than with the first!
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A bit strange, I know, but this story refers back to some old stories of mine of a series called Myths of our Solar System:
https://haberdasheryofstories.blogspot.com/2013/04/myths-of-our-solar-system-20-neptune.html
https://haberdasheryofstories.blogspot.com/2013/05/myths-of-our-solar-system-34-sedna.html
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Thanks for sharing them with us!
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Startled, I looked up from my phone as Suzi walked up. “Where’s Jimmy?” She asked accusingly.
I gestured toward the lake, where a boy was playing in the water, the familiar red and blue striped swimsuit just visible above the water. “Over there, having fun” Suz grunted in return.
It was a beautiful day and several families had driven over from town. The sun was shining, the air was shimmering and warm.
Suz and I sat and ate lunch. As we finished, a heavyset woman called out. “Nate. Nate. It’s time to go home”
The boy in the familiar suit turned around and started walking in. Suzi and I looked at each other. “Jimmy!” She started to yell, “Jimmy! Where are you?” No answer.
We looked everywhere. Called the police. They looked too. We never found him.
Deep at the bottom of the lake, the monster fed well.
@Jay_Tay_13
148 words
Mistaken Identity
LikeLiked by 9 people
How many times over the centuries has the monster fed well! Well told…
LikeLiked by 1 person
~ Soul Cleanse ~
We emerge from the sea into an entirely new world, where the sun doesn’t shine from beyond the mountains anymore, but a glorious light emanates from within each of us. We feel new too, as if our bodies and souls are coated in pure gold, and its luminescence is what makes us shine.
But we weren’t always this way.
Two nights ago, we were just bad men in the middle of a gang war. Bullets rode the winds, tearing us apart. All because one of us mistook another for a traitor.
This happened beside the river whose waters we turned red. Before it sucked us in and fed us to the sea, which seems to have turned us into new men.
What happened to the darkness within us? As they say, maybe the darkness was just the absence of light, which the sea has now infused in our souls.
***
@ArvindIyer15
149 Words
Mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 8 people
I love the transformation here, such a powerful story!
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Surprise
The sun glared in Cara’s eyes as it bounced off the gentle ocean waves. She squinted into the water at the handsome figure. Sleek, taught muscles on his tan arms, hair wet and slicked back, a tight surfer shirt to block the chill. It had to be Nico.
Cara sloughed off her clothes, minus her skimpy one-piece that showed off her best curves, and carefully dipped into the cool surf. In one swift motion, she dove under the surface and swam towards her prey, pinching his side.
She rose to the surface to claim her victory kiss but instead of Nico stood a very surprised, gorgeous woman. The woman eyed her for a moment and then approached with a sexy smile.
Cara leapt out of the water, rushed for her clothing, and ran home, afraid to turn back and answer the Siren’s call.
@athewriter
143 words
A mistaken identity
LikeLiked by 6 people
Oh, nicely done!
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Thanks!
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That last line feels like a buried truth. Maybe one day she’ll find the courage to answer that call? ❤
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Convergence
There’s a full-bodied splash, and then it’s kinda like a peel, ya’know the kind where your pores pull out, but you emerge with a changed pigment of skin.” I waded around the words. Thirty years of savings pooled from swallowing salty leftover chicken, upwelling thrifted dresses that smelled like strangers and denying myself the pleasures of the new.
All that treading for just one forty-minute soak in the North Sea, now owned by the megacorporation RENEW. Total rejuvenation of all of your living cells. A personalized soak. Natural abrasions release your inner pigmentation.
The ocean spray was stale cold. It’s as if the suit of myself is now hanging in a spiritual department store somewhere, and I’m wearing the wig of someone else’s life. Still, I float a smile for the cameras. I need this cash stream to fuel my new addictions now that my very soul is a stranger.
@hartless_k
150 words
Fire: Stolen Identity
LikeLiked by 9 people
What a great story. I love “the pleasure of the new” and the new addictions of this strange new person. You build a world in so few words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So much I love about this one: the speculative bent, the world, phrases like “as if the suit of myself is now hanging in a spiritual department store somewhere”–nicely done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Deb.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Too Soon
“I know you, don’t I?” The girl with the surfboard eyed me uncertainly. “You were Jessie’s friend, right?”
I didn’t respond, so surprised she’d noticed me.
Then I remembered Jessie and the car accident. How the girl, Emily, had been the only one to walk away. How she’d seen me then, too, through pain and fear and shattered glass.
“Right, well…” Emily smiled, briefly, continuing on into the water.
“Be careful,” I almost said, but it wouldn’t have mattered.
I lingered as Emily’s laughter and squeals of delight washed over me like the waves lapping at my feet. So young, I thought, although that never seemed to matter either.
When a wave pulled Emily under and wouldn’t let her go, she saw me once more. The question in her screaming eyes was one I’d seen all too many times before: “Why? Why now?”
Still, I had no answer.
@MattKrizan
148 words
Ice dragon
LikeLiked by 9 people
I love the voice here (reminds me of Death in “The Book Thief”) and the hints dropped (“so surprised she’d noticed me”, “Be careful,” I almost said”) without anything spelled out for the reader. Nicely done.
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Title: Black Sea Dreams
Sometimes I play being a mermaid.
Every month during my ritual bath, I undulate through the currents, skim along the bottom, breach the surface amid my spray. To enhance that sensation of being a woman-fish, I bind my ankles and imagine iridescent scales instead of legs.
I covort with beluga and sturgeon, am sometimes joined by harbor porpoises, and they welcome me as one of them, forgive me for taking them to feed my tribe.
When I am done, I flop onto the shore, beached now. The scales evaporate, my ankles unbind; the sun dries me. Walking seems onerous, and I begin to count the days until I am a mermaid again.
I don my leggings and tunic, my boots and belt, take up my sword and my bow and quiver. With reluctance, I return to being an Amazon.
Sometimes I dream of becoming a mermaid…
@unspywriter
Fire Dragon Option
WC 146
LikeLiked by 9 people
The Amazon who dreams of becoming a mermaid—beautiful story!
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Between the devil…
‘What have we got, Dickens?’
‘Bit of a dust up between the locals, sir. The blonde woman and the chap in the diving suit.’
‘Can’t you get her to cover up? Drawing a bit of a crowd.’
‘Not really, sir. Queen of the Sirens, see. Threatening to sink all the fishing boats if we don’t sort things out.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well, seems she was practicing a new frolic when laughing boy turns up and starts filming.’
‘Bit of a perv?’
‘He says it’s for another Mythical Lives documentary. Got accreditation.’
‘If Neptune says it’s okay, what’s she whinging about?’
‘Says he insulted her and she wants him dragged to the depths and flailed. Failing that…’
‘What did he do?’
‘Called her a mermaid.’
‘Is that so bad?’
You haven’t done the training, sir? I fear that’s both sexist and nymphist…’
‘I’m getting too old for this job.’
147 words
Ice dragon option
@geofflepard
LikeLiked by 10 people
You’re such a strong swimmer, he complained as he caught up to her on the sand, dropping down beside her.
She’d reached a good five minutes before him. It was easy for her- the water, and how the salt quickened her pace. She’d chosen to live near the sea; her people.
I’m a mermaid, she shrugged. He chuckled.
Oh yes I can see your tail, he laughed pointing at her feet. She just smiled.
It’s a myth you know, she said looking out to the sea, pale green waves blending with the cyan of the sky.
Of course they’re a myth, he agreed.
No the tail part is the myth, she said watching him flop onto his back with his eyes closed.
She picked up a tiny shell, tossing it back into the water. Maybe someday, she thought, she’d return home.
She heard him snore and smiled. Or maybe not.
@firdausp
Words: 150/ both mistaken and stolen identity perhaps.
LikeLiked by 8 people
Wonderful story!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you 🙏🏼
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This is so tender! I love how well you’ve woven their conversation–truths spoken and completely missed!
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Thank you Deb. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looking at the photos and reminiscing how last summer was gloriously warm and peaceful. The summer just passed had not included a holiday, as some had tried in hope. Rosie could almost feel the warmth of the blue sea shimmering in the sunlight with the man dancing in sheer joy that added to the summer bliss she had also felt when she desired to capture the sea and she was still more than pleased with her effort.
Her partner had looked at their holiday photos in anger and she had attempted to placate him unsuccessfully that she had thought he was the one in the water. He had been until he had run out as he spotted someone of sudden interest so she felt no guilt in the slight misleading factor. It didn’t matter and they separated creating a new undulating rise of joy grateful to her unknowing saviour.
149 words, Fire (well mistaken (ice) masquerading as stolen (fire) ) @lindorfan
(Apologies for the posting earlier in a comment reply instead of as a comment like this one 🙈. dragons could you magic the 1st one away please )
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Thank you 🙈😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Water Sport
He loves the warmth of the sun on his skin. He loves the sparkle of water droplets, tiny diamonds of liquid joy, as he swings his arms into cold blue sky.
He loves seeing how long he can hold his breath overwater.
Ythyl Merman lives in the baltic depths of the Baltic Sea. He hides from humanity, since a species that clubs seals and thinks it can slow a whale with a pointy stick is one best avoided.
He enjoys his guilty pleasure – skinny-dripping, he calls it – only where he knows he will be alone.
Well, apart from the day he mistakenly burst gloriously through the surface right into the midst of the Danish Synchronised Swimming team.
He was gone in an instant, and in a back-flip that left a long arc of water, like a ponytail.
Which is why the statue is of a girl.
146 words
Ice dragon element
LikeLiked by 9 people
Ha! Good one! I was smiling with the pointy stick, and laughed out loud at the final line.
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Arielle danced to free herself from heartache. Death had stolen her joy, her identity, and her soul was drowning.
She was the rustle of leaves in trees, the shifting shadow of a drifting cloud, the sunshine in our laughter.
Everyone thought she was happy; they smiled when she pirouetted past them, a blur of fantasy, they never saw her tears.
Arielle understood that if she stopped moving, her limbs would become heavy, weighed down with grief, and the memories of being with him would sink into oblivion.
So Arielle danced along streets and across fields until she reached a beach. Little puffs of sand whispered of her grace as she spun towards the sparkling waves.
Paradise found, the ocean was her lover. Arielle’s sadness had gushed from her heart and made something beautiful. Now the water danced with her, like it had before.
143 words
Fire dragon
@Giacomin_Mark13
LikeLiked by 6 people
That first line is beautiful and gutting, and I love how you’ve mirrored it in the final line.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
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Happy
Jeff had the most infectious loud laugh you’d ever heard in your life. He always greeted you with open arms and then smothered you in a tender headlock. He was the kind of guy you would fight for to go on holiday with, because he brought the unpredictable kind of fun, like jumping in the ocean, with his clothes on, and screaming “Take a picture! Take a picture!”, while splashing around like Bill Murray on speed. He could cheer you up, just like that. He didn’t even have to tell a joke for it. All you had to do was catch the sparkle in his eye. He whistled. A lot. But one night, Jeff didn’t show up at a party. The happiness had worn him down: many years ago he had stolen some happy chap’s personality and had pretended it was his. No one ever saw Jeff again.
@bartvangoethem
148 words
Fire dragon: stolen identity
LikeLiked by 8 people
Oh, this is a heavy one, especially under that title. It’s always the ones who make us laugh and smile that we forget to check on, and too often lose. </3
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Long Neck
They shot him through the head with a harpoon. The barbed spear popped through the kid’s left eyeball as he splashed up in the water. Clean shot all the way through. His last gasp looked like he was waving to the setting sun, and he sunk below the surface. Fish darted around the new item. An anchovy scurried up the boy’s swim trunk leg and got stuck in the netting.
From their boat, two drunk Scots rolled the spear back in, watching it skate through the water like an oil spill.
The Scots heard ol’ Nessie departed the North Sea. So, for four nights, they tracked her nearly 1,500 miles to the Black Sea, hoping to find her popping out of the water with her long neck.
Then, there she was in the distance. Such fortune! And they shot their spear, with beer spittle settling over handshakes and back pats.
@brett_milam
Word Count: 150 words.
Element: Ice.
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Ouch on so many levels. I cannot see that sweet joyous picture prompt the same way ever again. The detail of the fish getting caught in the net of his trunks is so random–and yet heightens the tragedy in a kick-him-while-he’s-down kind of way. Masterful use of figurative language, like ‘oil spill’, something horrible and can’t be undone.
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Thank you so much for your feedback! I’m glad it resonated with you, even in an ouch way. 😅
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~The Changeling~
“Look at you,” says the Horse Head Man.
“That’s not me,” you reply.
“Sure it is,” says the Horse Head Man. “You freckle in all the same places.”
Wear your clothes inside out, Gran had said. Make sure none of the mirrors face the bed. Drink milk before you sleep, even a drop will do.
“Look,” says the Horse Head Man. “Even the eyes are the same.”
You’re squinting in the sunlit water but also you can see your eyes, squinting—you’re the kite and the person holding the string. You watch your hand emerge from the water and feel a whisper of wetness but not quite the tongue. And anyways you’ve long since entered the water. It covers you like a warm blanket.
The Horse Head Man cuts the kite string. Don’t let the folk take you, gran had said. She’d never told him about what they left behind.
@IpsaHerself
Word Count: 150 words
Element: Fire Dragon
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This is perfectly delightful–and tragic. The folktale is deftly folded into the story. The figurative language is wonderfully compelling, as is the push-pull between gran’s words and those of the Horse Head Man. I love your craft.
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too gorgeous for my words…
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Wow! This is pure story telling, beautifully done!
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Waterling
My four-year-old dashes into the sea, scattering sun-scaled droplets. The waves rush to him like a mother with open arms.
Part of me was ready for this. Like when I spread his tiny fingers to explore the translucent webbing and told myself these are newborn things. Like stork bites. Like red puckered faces.
Or at baby-swim class, instead of waiting for “we all fall down” to slide his swim-diapered bum off the edge, he plunged right in and would’ve swum away from me. My desperate grip on his squirming rib cage.
Or maybe when I found him submerged in the tub, bubbles bursting the surface with his giggles.
Or all the love I poured into this little boy only for it to evaporate into a spritely haze of indifference, webbed fingers always slipping from my hand.
The dwindling ripples encircle my heart. My arms hang empty at my sides.
149 words
Mistaken/stolen identity (a little of both)
@ncscrawls
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Intriguing and sad and beautifully worded.
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Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
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The Wrong Michael
The water shimmered like diamonds as the sun skimmed the sea at the turning tide. Natalia had disappeared below the surface again as she showed her swimming prowess off to Michael. She looked born to it, like a mermaid; though he wondered whether she was a siren.
Michael wasn’t used to random attention from the fairer sex, not these days. But had she made a beeline for him in the beach bar? He was suspicious; in tourist places prostitutes and thieves were as common as overcharging cabs. But she’d seemed genuine. Michael thought he mustn’t let his guard down completely. He didn’t realise he had an ideal woman, but after meeting Natalia he was sure he’d found her.
Natalia didn’t discover her mistake until the following day. It transpired that there had been two Michael Cunninghams at the Beach Hotel. And the wrong Michael had died inordinately happy that night.
—————
A.J. Walker
@zevonesque
150 words
Ice Dragon: a mistaken identity
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a not unpleasant way to expire out of sync…
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Ha! Turned out she *was* a siren that led him to his ruin–but his ruin was not so bad. Fun use of mistaken identity.
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Absolutely love this! Made me LOL that Michael died inordinately happy that night. Great example of mistaken identity!
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0°C
Snowflakes sting my face as I carry the last cardboard box out to the car. Curious, I open it to find a photo album, “Precious Memories” on the cover.
On the first page I see you, silhouetted in sunlight, on the day we met. You, a naiad dancing in the waters, and I tried to be your king. Oh, the things we did on that beach! Vodka. Peach schnapps. Orange and cranberry juice.
I don’t turn the page. This is the precious memory I want to carry with me. An image of a summer when love was hotter than the sun. When I knew with my heart and soul that you were the woman I would spend my life with.
The snow picks up. I give a final sad wave before driving away.
I’m sorry, my dear. I thought you were someone else.
@pmcolt
143 words
A mistaken identity
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Ah, love lost before it even was found…poignant.
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How you’ve used nature (“snowflakes sting my face”, “the snow picks up”) throughout to heighten the sense of story is just phenomenal.
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“A New Way”
…………………..
No longer would I have to hide in the shadows of the others
I would be able to move, freely, within the limits of the day and the night
Freed from the curse of being myself
I could step out, into the wider world, rid of the stigma of my birth
No longer the smallest or the slowest
Always hiding from the others and their fangs
Instead I could go away, leave our world and enter
Another one
It takes timing to escape
When all is at the darkest, I slip out and away
Heading upward, higher and higher, farther and farther away
Until I see the wall none safely surpass
This is where I shall wait
For the opportunity
One finally approaches
Dips below into my world
I glide up, enter the open maw, so much smaller than my kin
Slide inside and make it my home
@gamerwriter
Fire Dragon: Stolen Identity
Word Count is 148
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What a metamorphosis! Love the sense of hope and determination that matches the physical rise of the escapee.
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From my vantage point, just beyond the tree line, I would watch her creating her watery art. With each graceful sweep of her arms, she would bend the waves to her will, forming delicate sculptures, temporary monuments to the sea.
Then she would turn and dive away, her massive tail waving goodbye to dry land.
One day I ventured closer, out to water’s edge. She pretended not to see me. But her waltz with Neptune took on a decidedly sexy tenor, a dance of seven shells, as it were.
The joyous joust between us continued for several weeks. Each day I would draw closer. Ankle deep. Knee deep. Thigh deep. I hoped she’d take the bait.
She did.
And I yanked the line.
The hook snagged her jaw.
She fought, but quickly tired.
I’m sure I’ll miss her supernatural performances. But I won’t miss my empty belly.
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Perhaps because I read this at breakfast I enjoyed the edible effort described…and this lovely line…”a dance of seven shells “…
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Those first lines had me in the mind of Katara from “Avatar: The Last Airbender” so I was not ready for that ending. LOL
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For the first time in months, Anna breathed. She breathed deep, satisfying breaths of refreshing air. Was this … peace? Yes, finally. Olek was splashing about carefree. The memory of their harrowing escape would probably never leave them entirely, but at least now they could envision a life with some normalcy, some joy.
Now they had new “memories” to remember. Olek’s job was easier. A bibliophile practically since birth, he already loved and lived in stories. Their new story was just another one to add to the vast catalog inside his brain. Anna had a greater challenge. More years to file in her mental archives. Would calling him “Symon” ever feel natural? Could she remember to answer to “Polina?” If she could have chosen, her new name would have been “Anastasia.” She’d always loved that name as a child. But in such circumstances, one does not get to choose.
149 words
@ordinaryletters
Fire dragon (stolen identity)
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I love the reversal from the first paragraph to the second: peace followed so quickly by doubts–will I be able to remember the details? Will his new name ever feel natural? It reads like the shadows that fly through the brain even at the most peaceful moments.
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Those shadows are relentless, aren’t they?
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and just like that—SPLASH!—Sol 17 is over. Thank you for your stories! Join us Sunday where we’ll feature our first two Fire&Ice writers; results Monday. Great weekend, all!
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