Tiny Acorns

This is my Friday Fictioneers submission for 17.10. Eagle-eyed readers will spot that I’ve based it on the wrong photographic prompt. I’ve decided to post it anyway, because I quite like this one as a companion piece to this story. Time permitting, I may have a bash at Doug McIlroy’s proper photo but until then…

(nb, to clarify, I actually think the origami flower in the photo is very pretty, though obviously the protagonist disagrees)

Another tree planted; the same tedious commemoration ceremony. A thin faced man stutters out a flat elegy to a woman who used to love walking in these woods. He doubts this is true. Why would anyone enjoy walking in this receptacle of displaced grief. Next to the sapling is a stump, a comrade in arms felled last week. They’ll have made him into paper by now, to be scrawled on, or folded into some hideous origami trinket of love.

The mighty oak watches and wishes humans would learn to talk to one another whilst it still matters what they say.




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24 responses to “Tiny Acorns

  1. Dear Etienne,

    Love your conclusion. We have so much to learn and you illustrated this well.



  2. Dear Etienne,

    From dust to dust…



  3. Nice – emotive writing. The Tree seems bitter and hopeless at the same time.

  4. I’m totally glad you chose the wrong prompt. This is a gorgeous piece of work. Kudos.

  5. This works.. if just he oak could talk.. love the conclusion on the wrong picture.

  6. Great POV, if only trees could share their wisdom, and if only we could listen

  7. Dear Etienne, I love the wrong picture – I did that once and spent two days writing on it. I enjoyed your story and it’s excellent! Thanks, Nan 🙂

  8. Great story and powerful ending. I love the scene you’ve built and the thoughts you’ve captured so eloquently.

  9. I agree that the origami photo certainly does call out for a story to be written. Interesting place to go with it this week.

    All my best,
    Marie Gail

  10. Receptacle of displaced grief…powerful stuff.

  11. Etienne, Good story even if it was on the wrong photo. I can understand the tree’s feelings. My dad planted a lot of trees. He couldn’t bring himself to chop any down. Well written. 🙂 — Susan

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