Literary Lion. How to swim.

The last Literary Lion was an exercise in the art of brevity, and quite successful it was too… I was so dazzled by your six word stories that I found it impossible to pick a favourite, and so I urge you all to head to the last post where you will find the pingback-ed stories in the comments section.

This week the lion has me dreaming of summer, with the prompt ‘Pool’. In keeping with the lion’s new appetite for the unfamiliar, we are asking for stories of 100 words or less. So here’s two weeks to craft your tales, remember to pingback to this post, include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ so we can all read your story in the WP reader, and of course come and say hello on Instagram and twitter.

Or failing that, you can just read my little almost-100 word adventure below…


How to Swim.

His hair clumped in tufts. Jet black and wet from the water. I sat with my feet in the pool, flicking my cigarette ash in the blue aqua, watching the sun shimmering across the delicate droplets on his back. His skin glowed golden under the sunlight, but as the day started to fade it turned a hue of cool blue. I threw my cigarette in and thanked the stars that he was floating downwards. I didn’t want to see the horrified look that was now etched on his face for eternity.

47 Comment

  1. Andy says: Reply

    Good stuff. Cool, isn’t she?

    I haven’t written for a while, so I’m a bit rusty and had zero inspiration. So I cheated a bit, and bounced off your post, hope that is OK? – and that you see it as a sincere form of flattery.

    1. says: Reply

      Ice cool. The best way. No cheating at all, I am indeed very flattered and very pleased for the prequel. 😀

  2. Simply intriguing, Feasey! I loved it! Reading it pulled me back into yesterday, many summers ago, when my parents took us on a family outing at the beach. A man’s water-swollen body floated up out of the waves to rest on the shore, where his dog, I gather, whimpered and periodically trotted around the body, as if yet staking its territory…or observing which part of him had not crossed the river Styx. His hue competed with the faded blue of the dying, water-splashed evening. As I stood watching, listening, a summer chill challenged my love of water and left me on the shore from then to now, respectful of the sea in fear and wonder!

    1. says: Reply

      Gosh that is terrifying. Is that a true story? Really love your description of the blue hue of his body in the water… even if it is a little disturbing if true!

      1. Morning Laura!
        Yes, the story is true, and it is forever stitched in the canopy that hangs delicately over my childhood. On that afternoon, standing there on the beach beside my dad and other horrified onlookers, I felt as if summer had turned and slipped away, dragging what was left of my carefree childhood behind her.
        The dog seemed distraught but loyal.
        Thank you kindly for the praise. I love your way with words as well!

      2. Morning Laura!
        I nominated you for a Liebster Award! I love your blog! Period!
        Just wanted you to know!

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