I’m not sure whether my efforts this week inspired by Rochelle’s prompt:
count as a story in the strictest sense – it doesn’t really have a beginning, middle and end; it’s more like a moment somewhere along the way. But I’m still quite pleased with it. Have a read yourself, see what you think:
To most people, the soft pitching of the boat, the quiet lapping of the water, would be an aquatic lullaby. But as I dozed on the normally still waters below Mount Fuji, the movement woke me.
I blinked the sleep away and heard a sound from the bank. A young farm boy was watering his horse, and this had caused the ripples which roused me. On the hill behind them sat a lone figure. I squinted. Was he painting? Should he not be working? To feed his family?
I lowered my hat over my eyes and drifted back to sleep.