Powdered light sleets through the drab garden, each photon fluorescing on my retina. Rough brick blocks the path, and the rubble of all my yesterdays litters the flowerbed. Some have taken root, slick tendrils already clutching for the sky, dragging themselves upwards to sprout monstrous fruit.
I must pass through. I cannot. The gateway will not yield without a key. The gate is the answer. But answers are useless without the matching question.
Slumping, I pick one of the bloated fruits and gnaw.
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Neil MacDonald Author 
Dear Neil,
I liked the image of powdered light sleeting. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much, Rochelle
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“Powdered light sleets through the drab garden.” I like it.
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Thanks so much. James
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Eating fruit is my go-to, too! hehehe
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Thanks for reading, Violet
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Oh dear, this feels layered and dark. Not a great place to be trapped without an exit plan, even if there is the potential of comfort-eating fruit.
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Thanks so much
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Powdered light. What a beautiful metaphor!
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Thanks so much, Linda
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What an intriguing scene you’ve set. Will the monstrous fruit provide the question I wonder?
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Thanks so much, Keith
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Great description here, Neil. I love that first line of powdered light. Really fits this picture well.
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Thanks so much. David
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You expertly created a sullen atmosphere, Neil.
I especially like ‘the rubble of all my yesterdays’.
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Thanks so much, CE
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Beautifully written piece, Neil. At least he has fruit to give him sustenance whilst he ponders…
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Thanks so much, Dale
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Is that Gate 42, by any chance?
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Life the Universe and Everything
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Not knowing the questions to fit the answers… I’ve not had enough coffee this morning for something this deep. Haha beautifully descriptive as always, Neil
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Thanks so much. Laurie. I was always taught that answers are cheap – it’s good questions that are scarce
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Oooo yes, I like that sentiment
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What a lovely read, beautifully descriptive.
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Thanks so much, Fleur
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You’re welcome 😊
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I love the phrase, ‘the rubble of all my yesterdays’ — I wonder who he is. The first line made me think of a robot.
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Thanks so much. He’s one in a long line who failed to ask the right question
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Very nicely done, and some fruit to munch too, and why not?
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Thanks so much, Chris. Beware the fruit!
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The key and the answer to a future is always the tricky point. Lovely imagery.
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Thanks so much, James
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Neil you have a powerful command of imagery, there’s a visceral, gothic-surrealist quality here that pulls us right in 🙌
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Thanks so much. What a lovely comment
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Deserved 😊
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You knocked the ekphrastic ball out of the park! Lovely writing, Neil
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Thanks so much, Nancy. Lovely turn of phrase
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Such poetry!
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Thanks so much, Dawn
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it’s the question rather than the answer that is the key, very Zen! A friend always tells me that I don’t ask the right questions and she’s spot on! Someday I will, and I hope there will be fruit!
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Thanks so much
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