Friday Fictioneers microfiction: Refugees

This is for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

“Which one is it, Baba?” Tarek, the eldest asked. “The big black and white one with the red funnel”

Ammar cast an anxious look at his wife Rima. “It might be,” he replied. “Let’s hope so, shall we?”

Little Amira tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “What are these for?” she asked, pointing at the pile of tatty life jackets Ammar had bought with the last of their money.

Rima tried hard to smile. “They’re for just in case.”

Ammar took her hand and clutched it tight.

 

 

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Leaving

For the Secret Keeper’s weekly writing challenge to use these words:

PLACE – SHARP – CHIME – FIRM – PACE

Painting ©Feliks Paszkowski

With steady pace,

I leave this place

Of harsh stone fields

That nothing yield.

The morning air

Is sharp and fair,

Step firm and bold,

I leave the fold.

Beyond the swell,

A chiming bell

Calls out to me

From ‘cross the sea.

A boat, my boat,

My dreams afloat,

To carry me

To where you be.

Shiver me timbers!

This was tied up on the quay this morning. My first thought was it looked like the Black Pig from Captain Pugwash.

Apparently it’s the Nao Victoria, the first ship to sail around the world. Never ‘eard of it. But that’s my ignorance. I’m sure most people have.

As the man who had just stopped his bicycle to have a look at it remarked, it looks like something a nutter knocked up out of recuperated pallets in his back yard on Sunday afternoons. They were made of stern stuff in those days.