#ShortShortStories

a cure for the common block

Fire and Ice

Floyd always knew his Mama would help sick people who came to their boat, and they usually never gave anything more than a prayer or handwritten note, but it wasn’t until a bit after his twelfth birthday that he found out how she helped those poor, sick folks. Floyd woke up one day colder than any winter on the Bayou, but sweating like a crawfish in a pot; his Mama sang over him, patting his head with a damp cloth. He couldn’t understand her… but he couldn’t tell if she was singing gibberish or if he was hearing gibberish. She lit three of the candles she used to heal people, and burned one of the handwritten notes over the candles, capturing Floyd’s eyes like a snake, willing him to get better as the aroma of smoldering paper filled his room. After a few more hours rest he felt good as new, but a couple days later his school announced a new Vice Principal, and a small part of him always wondered. #ShortShortStories #FireAndIce

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2 thoughts on “Fire and Ice

  1. minnaar on said:

    I wish you would write more. These are beautiful.

  2. You keep reading ’em, I’ll keep writing ’em.

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