Balunn lingered beside the river he’d been named for – it fed his spirit. He thought of his beloved grandmother, dying now, content that he’d made it home in time.
She’d craved a taste of the juicy native lime she’d loved as a child, rare even then. And Balunn had tried – searching unsuccessfully for days.
As he rested, he pondered the debris choking his river – detritus of that other world he now belonged to. These two worlds sat uncomfortably together inside his head, and the old one was disappearing.
Rising, he spotted a low, thorny bush, and his hopes soared.
* ‘Balunn’ means ‘river’ (Indigenous Australian)
Many varieties of traditional foods – bush tucker – used by the indigenous people of Australia are endangered or extinct. The limes Balunn’s grandmother craved are now being grown in a couple of plantations, but are rare in the wild.
You can read about it here.
This is my contribution to this week’s ‘Friday Fictioneers’, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Writers contribute 100 word stories in response to a picture prompt.