Maiko

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is neils-quote.jpg — Like us on Facebook

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is kcplaza-lights-ff.jpg

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.

Genre: Fiction
Word Count: 100
FLOWER AND WILLOW WORLD

A thousand butterflies swirl in my stomach as I peer out the window, watching for the car that will bring my Hoshi-chan, my shining star, for a brief visit.

After we left her at the Okiya in Kyoto, six months ago, I cried for a week.

At her Misedashi my heart swelled with pride. In exquisite silk kimono, painted face and elegant jeweled hair, Hoshi, renamed Kikuyu, was welcomed into the secret society of Geisha.

She glided to me on lacquered getas and uttered those words I will forever cherish. “Okaasan, when I come home, please cook me a hamburger.”

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Today Pegman visits Tokyo.

ありがとうございました

Arigatōgozaimashita, 
thank you to Karen Rawson for hosting this unique challenge.

To enjoy other stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

My photo choice from stroll through Google

Again, I’m late for the party, but couldn’t resist the challenge. Maybe it’s the extra 50 words or the fact that I’m merely a participant.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

FLOWER AND WILLOW WORLD

A thousand butterflies swirl in my stomach as I peer out the window, watching for the car that will bring my Hoshi-chan, my shining star, for a brief visit.

After we left her at the Okiya in Kyoto, six months ago, I cried for a week.

“It’s all for the best, Fumiko-chan,” said my husband Ichiro. “She’s following her life’s path.”

“What does she know of life? She’s only fifteen.”

“We’ve five more children and can hardly feed them.”

I cannot argue, but Hoshi is our only daughter, my ally in this man’s house.

At her Misedashi—formal presentation ceremony—my heart swelled with pride. In exquisite silk kimono, painted face and jeweled hair, Hoshi, renamed Kikuyu, was welcomed into the secret society of Geisha.

She glided to me on lacquered getas and uttered those words I will forever cherish. “Okaasan, when I come home, please cook me a hamburger.”