Friday Fictioneers – Nest

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for organising this flash fiction challenge, as always, and to Penny Gadd for the photo prompt. I took this one fairly literally, because it stirred up some lovely memories of carefree childhood moments that I was trying to capture with my story.


Photo prompt copyright Penny Gadd

Every spring it was harder to slither under the tangled branches.

What was that splash? Not one of Them, with their interminable lectures on Being Sensible and Not Coming Home With Your Clothes Ruined Every Single Day? No, just the moorhen. All safe.

Home again. Maybe later the others would come. Maybe they’d go on a life-or-death mission behind enemy lines. Maybe they’d maintain a siege against the armies of Them, or dig for gold in ancient tombs. Or maybe they’d just go paddling.

Billy settled into his branch, the one that overhung the water, and watched the moorhen build her nest.

[99 words]

Click HERE for other responses.


    1. Thank you! When I was a girl I had a den in a perfect circle amongst some gorse bushes on the heathland not far from my house, and for years it was my favourite place in the world. Although it was many years later and I’d grown out of it, I still remember the sadness when the bushes grew up over it and I couldn’t have wriggled through even if I had wanted.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I think, as you get older, the need for a physical refuge is perhaps replaced by the need to escape mentally. Writing is my new ‘nest’ – a place where I can be whatever I want, untrammelled by the endless demands of being one of Them 😉

        Liked by 1 person

  1. There was a huge weeping willow in my grandmother’s yard. The branches were so long, they touched the ground, making for a wonderful hidy-hole. That is the wonder and whimsy of childhood — the magic of imagination and play. A very evocative tale.

    Liked by 1 person

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