Old Oak Tree


Written for Daily Prompt: Circle

At the feet of the old oak tree, we danced round and round with abandon. Our circle was charged with reverence honoring our tree’s fidelity.

This mighty oak provided countless quiet shelter right there under its expanding arms. The old oak soaked all our utmost secrets which we related to him in this quiet solitude of its shadow.

Our old friend always rejoiced with the approaching laughter of excited little children. Children would caress its core as a dear child clings to a mother.

Today, a fierce storm passed through our field breaking our ancient oak in half.  It succumbed mercilessly falling noisily to the ground.

Once again we gathered our circle, hand in hand at the fallen feet of  our nature guru. We offered humble praise for his life.

With hope in our hearts new circles will be born, the old oak’s seeds will bring new tender shoots.  In the field children will discover standing little oaks.

The undying circle of nature will come to be through mother nature’s undenying rejuvenation.

The circle of life will be shared through kind spirit generations.

Hélène Vaillant© September 30, 2017


Daring Escape


ThreeLineTales: Prompt – picture above 

Daring Escape

She loved to dive into deep water, no matter where she was, the thrill of any possible danger made it a welcome challenge for her.

Taking off her shoes she slipped out of her shorts , dove straight into the dark water and crushed her head on a rock where she remained.

What did she need to prove to herself with this daring escape would never be heard by anyone.

Hélène Vaillant©

The Seamstress

Sunday Whirl 

Prompt words:  water –  become – shrill – sense –  stitch – peak –  wake – singe – circle – draw – blue – ribbon

The Seamstress

Early one morning dawn, a shrill cry peaked my senses. Looking out from my bedroom window I  was surprised to spot the next door neighbours out by the shore. With  a stick in his hands, their son was drawing a big circle around a particular spot in the water.

This peaked my curiosity. Gathering my bathrobe I walked over to their side of the beach.  A body could be seen just beneath the surface where the water had become clearer.  I gasped when I saw little blue ribbons around the neck of this body.

I knew this had to be the charming seamstress who lived behind my own cottage. She had just finished sewing a shirt for me using this most elaborate and elegant stitched design with this same shade of blue ribbon.  A shiver went through me on seeing those blue ribbons.

This lovely seamstress is (was) a member of a large Irish family known for their great wake gatherings.   No doubt that all of this will be bringing some excitement to our quiet corner of the lake.

Hélène Vaillant©

Passage of time



The passage of time 

Memories buried deep down in the dungeon of life, kept in darkness, covered with guilt, slime and torment.

A woman came to open the rusted lock. The door squealed, grinded on the cement floor.  It gave in with great difficulty.  The first light that appeared blinded me so. The woman  helped to support me as we  continued walking.

As I got accustomed to the light I noticed the person holding me resembled my younger self, me many years ago, closer to the time I was so fiercely thrown down into this dungeon.

Slowly we both ascended the stairs, taking time to rest my breath on each level, I gained more strength as we climbed all seven steps. On the seventh step I came face to face with an open door. Hesitation took hold of me as I arrived on the threshold of this radiating light.

To my surprise the woman holding me had disappeared. I had no idea when she had left my side.

I pushed one foot forward to finally come closer to the Light.  It took a while for me to observe all of my surrounding. Standing there, I wondered why I had buried myself in darkness when, all along there had been all this light around me.

Hélène/Mother Willow©

#writephoto prompt – passage

Six Sentence Stories – Surprise!


The cue is LIGHT…


There was a small “light” shining in the kitchen.
Someone was rummaging through the refrigerator.
It was three o’clock in the morning and a snack was about to be consumed.
Right then, the teenager of the house arrives through the kitchen door, (after running over his curfew by 5 hours).
Caught in the act, the surprised (late nite/early morning) snacker, drops his snack to the floor.
“Hey Dad! I won’t tell about your 3 AM snacking if you let me off scot free this one time pop!”


Hélène/Mother Willow ©

Crystal Ball

The Sunday Whirl (wordle-272)

Prompt words

busy/ class /velvet/ still /light/ curl/ oil/ drop/ silvery/ echoing/ bowl /jealous/

Crystal Ball

She accidentally dropped sizzling hot oil on her hands.
Instantly her skin began to curl and blister,
her screams echoing throughout the house.

Reaching for the bowl on the counter
she filled it with tepid water,
grabbed her black velvet cloth
covering her crystal ball.

Dipping her hand in the bowl
she covered it with the velvet
just in time to greet her client at the door.

Seated opposite her client
crystal ball in front of her
she audibly moaned and cursed
at the pain under the velvet.

Her client was assured this was a spell
she had made contact he thought.
Anxious now for the voice of departed ones
he waited while the cursing subsided.

Speaking slowly the voice told him:
“Keep yourself busy in class.
Someone is jealous of your accomplishments.
Be still, the light is with you.”

Overwhelmed with this message
he grabbed her velvet covered hand.
She screamed the most  fouled cursing
that brought tears to his eyes.

“Thank you” he said.
” You got in touch with my father.
Those cursing words are the exact ones he used
towards me all the time. You are an excellent

Satisfied, her client left. Closing the door behind her
she noticed a silvery charm on the table.
He had left no fee,
a charm instead.

Just then, the cursing that unfolded could be heard by her client on the street.
He began counting his blessings.
And so it was.

Hélène/Mother Willow

3LineTales: Pumpkin Pies


photo by Shaun Holloway

Three Line Tales:  photo prompt

Pumpkin pies with cinnamon, fresh baking aroma fills every corner in the house.

Family arrives for our Thanksgiving celebration.

Seated around the table, we give thanks, eat heartily and for dessert, everyone oooo’s and ah’s when the pumpkin pies, dressed with real whipped cream are cut into equal slices then given to each one.

Hélène/Mother Willow©3 line tales