PHOTO CREDIT - Santoshwriter
PHOTO CREDIT – Santoshwriter

As we kneeled at the river’s edge, father pointed to the ground, “What is this?”

“A leaf?” I said. He shook his head.

He baffled me for years with koans. At a funeral he gestured at the deceased, whispering “Me, or you?” I had nightmares for days.

Following the war, millions fled the revolutionary zeal gripping the country. “Mao tilts a poison cup into the land, wilting leaves blow far away,” father lamented.

Years later I live in the place my ancestors called Gold Mountain. On a stroll with my grandson I pointed to a thicket and asked, “What is this?”

“A leaf?”


He was genuinely puzzled.


This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

Have fun and happy writing!

3 comments on “Leaves

  1. micklively

    I am genuinely puzzled too. I looked up “koan” but I can’t make sense of it.

  2. I was puzzled, too, until I read your reply. This is interesting and worth learning more about it. Obviously the MC learned to cherish his father’s riddles.

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