Writober 2025: Day Seven Skeleton>Response Post
🔗Links in the Table of Contents are Jump links to my responses to each of the challenges
🐦⬛This is original work created by Maria L. Berg and this post counts as copyright. All rights reserved.
🎃OctPoWriMo 🦇Writober Flash Fiction 👻Halloween Photography Challenge
Today’s Theme: Skeleton
These are my responses to the prompt post for Day 7 of Writober: The Core of Our Beings
OctPoWriMo
Skeletons Only Have Value When Out of Place
Writober Flash Fiction Challenge
Good Sight
It was a normal day. I had just picked up a bag of groceries and was waiting at the crosswalk. A woman in a mix of bright colors and patterns stepped into the crosswalk. A truck sped toward her from my left. It wasn’t slowing.
I didn’t think. I dropped my groceries, dashed across, grabbed her and pulled her back to the sidewalk. She landed on me, smothering me with her girth. She smelled of warm dusty spices and baby powder.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, rolling back and forth like a turtle on its shell.
I pushed on her shoulder and squirmed out from under. “Are you okay?”
The truck driver who had screeched to a halt and others who had been waiting at the crosswalk rushed over and helped us get to our feet. Strangers shook my hand, said I was a hero. A crazy, foolish, hero. Someone handed me the torn bag with a few of my damaged groceries.
She chuckled. Her whole body jiggled with her joyful laughed. “You saved me?” she said in an intriguing accent. “The least I can do is feed you dinner. I live very close and there’s plenty.”
I always enjoyed meeting new people and learning about new cultures, so this sounded like the perfect answer to my growling tummy and lack of groceries. “Thank you for your kind offer. Lead the way.”
She grabbed my arm and we plodded along around the corner.
“I’m Martine,” she said.
“Jordan,” I replied. “I noticed your accent. Do you mind me asking where you’re from?”
“Not at all. I’m from Senegal.” She let go of my arm as we climbed the stairs.
“That’s Africa, right? The west coast.” I paused on each step and waited. This was a slow journey.
“Have you been?” She unlocked three different locks with three different keys.
“Oh, no. I haven’t been much of anywhere, but I like maps, geography and stuff.”
“A dreamer, eh?”
“I guess you could say that.”
The inside of her apartment was as colorful and spicy as she was. A frightening horned mask protruded from one wall. Large pillows and cushions covered the floor.
She went straight to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from a shelf. The glass she handed me held a yellow liquid that smelled tangy. She clinked my glass and downed hers, so I did the same. It was sharp, bitey, and burned on the way down. It threatened to come back up.
I coughed. “What is that?” I sputtered.
She laughed that warm, joyous laugh I was coming to love, “Palm wine. I make it myself. Reminds me of home. Here have more.” She didn’t wait for an answer and filled my glass. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“What are we having?”
“Chicken and vegetables. It’s been cooking for hours. Will be so nice and soft.”
She grabbed a huge silver bowl, filled the bottom with rice, then dumped the entire pan of chicken pieces and vegetables from the oven on it, then she covered the whole thing in a brown sauce that was somehow also dark red. I smelled peanuts which smelled good but out of place.
She placed the bowl inside a white symbol drawn on the floor and told me to take a seat. Sitting on a cushion across from me, she dug in with her right hand. I did the same. The vegetables mushed right into the rice. The sauce made my fingers oily and they turned orange. The chicken melted in my mouth. I didn’t realize how much I had eaten until my stomach pushed against my waistband uncomfortably. The bowl was now empty accept for a pile of chicken bones.
“The best part,” she said.
“What is?”
“The marrow.” She grabbed a bone.
“The what?”
She broke the bone and sucked on it loudly. She tilted the bowl toward me and I tentatively took a bone. She nodded at me. I did not want to insult her after she had shared such a surprising meal. I took a deep breath, smiled, and snapped the bone. I put it in my mouth and sucked. A pasty liquid touched my tongue, rich and savory like beefy butter.
“You like? It’s good for your sight.”
“Like vitamin A?” I asked.
She didn’t answer, only laughed.
After we sucked all the bones, she offered tea, but I felt a little nauseus and wanted some air. She thanked me again for saving her from the truck and walked me to the door.
Outside, the evening seemed brighter. I felt warm, from the inside out. The usually busy streets appeared empty except for a small group walking toward me. I thought the sun was playing tricks, setting behind them. I could see through them. Their skin draped like sheer veils. Their skeletons glowed with the burning fire of their souls. Is that hellfire? flashed through my mind. Even the drizzling rain falling around them lit up like sparks. But the fire did not spread.
Was I the only one seeing this? I looked around but I was alone. Where was everyone? What had happened to me? I thought about what Martine said, It’s good for your sight. How was this a good sight? What if the reason I’m only seeing these few figures, and I’m seeing right through them is because she opened my eyes to good. Are these few, the only truly good? Why do they have to look like fiery skeletons?
I turned around to follow them.
Halloween Photography Challenge
Today’s images are about the importance of the rib cage. I tried a more realistic cut, but it was too fragile and the ribs broke off. So I went for a representation of a rib cage, and made a second filter by putting what I cut out on a piece of plastic.
Experience Writing 