Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Lissa and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are: 

01. water 

02. gather 

03. flood 

04. memory 

05. linger 

06. solace 

07. enigmatic 

08. neighbour 

09. cold 

10. destruction

Here is my story: 

Khoral Kai had become used to living in the lighthouse, walking to and from the village almost daily to gather supplies he needed. Eric and Old Pete had supplied him with several easy to prepare recipes, so Khoral wouldn't have to eat at the local restaurants or pubs too often. It wasn't a problem in the summer months, but in the cold of winter Khoral could stay home and cook something for himself. 

It had been over a year since he had watched the destruction of his home planet, but the memory remained strong. He imagined it would always be so. His second Christmas on Earth had come and gone and now the winter season was coming to an end. Spring bulbs had sent up sturdy green shoots and were now beginning to bud. Khoral looked forward to watching them open to see what he had in his little garden. Old Pete had only remembered daffodils, but there were many others. He had checked the rainwater barrel and knew he had plenty of water in case the summer rains were too few and the garden needed a helping hand. 

A watering can had been purchased on his last trip to the village, along with some of those delicious cinnamon rolls from the girl at the bakery. Khoral had learned her name was Gail, being mute, she hadn't told him this, but had written it down when he asked. He felt a flood of affection for her, she looked so much like his mother had at a younger age, her name had also been Gail, but spelled Gaille.

Daily, he found solace in the routines of his comings and goings, waving to a neighbour on his way to and from the village, then upon completing his chores, taking time to linger on the seat facing the ocean to watch the sunset, where the changing colours of the sky were reflected back in the ocean each evening and Khoral wondered about Old Pete. Had he sat and watched as he now did? Would he eventually become the enigmatic Old Man of the lighthouse?