Lync Short Story - Ara's Wish

This isn't my best Lync story but its still okay.  Will try to do a new one next month.  I feel my favorite will always be the first one I posted.  However I do have an appreciation for the one being replaced (The Thief) which might be a worthy second.  I've captured both below.

I did squeeze in some time during the day at work to do a bit of TYW prep, only half hour because I was bombarded with back to back meetings and task.  I at least came up with a plan for the weekend.  It has meant foregoing some social things.  A friend invited me to an event tonight earlier in the week and potential plans for tomorrow evening but I've opted to not engage, in order to hit my deadlines.  That said if I do get ahead tonight (tackling today and tomorrow's goals) I might go out.

But as it is, I'm tired and just finished cooking dinner  Thus going ahead and knocking this post out so I can try to focus on TYW the rest of the evening and hopefully get in a bit of reading (The Shuddering).

As a side note.  There's still lot going on in all aspects of my life but working through it all.  Trying to recognize that there will just be things that just are and all I can do is try my best.  I do feel a bit better today but there's still the occasional frustration/anxiety.  Anywho there's a week left of February!


Lync Stories: Drabble length ( <100 words) stories told in a Lync messenger status.

February 2019 - Ara's Wish

Ara’s mother died during the night at the start of the war. So Ara dreamt of the stars during the day. She made use of the clouds as they traveled, carrying the wishes of the weary. Every evening she collected the scraps of wishes in her worn basket, just like her mother before her. She added her wish as the last scrap each time- “one more day”. Some days luck was on her side as the sun kissed her closed eyelids, the grass blades caressed her cheek, and the wind carried the whispers of her mother.  


The last Lync story, being replaced with the aforementioned, came in August 2018 - The Thief

I was nine when my father imparted his best advice. It’s the only thing of value from our last day. He shuffled, forced a smile, and finally let his head fall because that’s all the shackles allowed.  The consequences of his choices did not deter my own. My first theft – my nana’s heart. But it was the stolen dream that cost. Believing its value outweighed the flesh and bone of its bearer. “You have to work up to stealing the big things,” he said. So I don’t shuffle. Remembering those words keep me still.