Lions
The lions’ throaty roars before dawn would send Ngabo scampering to his parents’ bed.
“Don’t be afraid,” Mother would whisper. “It’s just mama lion, keeping her babies safe.”
On Sundays Father taught him how to run silently through the jungle, to a dark, mossy gully they called the hiding place.
Now, a lifetime later, Ngabo walks beside a restless ocean, where a distant headland seems to him to be shaped like a crouching lion.
He has slept poorly, his dreams haunted by the night the men came with machetes, and his father’s strangled voice: “Run, Ngabo, to the hiding place.”
*****
This is my offering for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this weekly flash fiction link-up .
Onto the page 
We both saw a hiding place this week.
Chilling ending. I hope he ran!
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Yes, we did. And yes, he did run, and survived to remember that night. Thank you, Tannille.
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Tragic tale of man’s inhumanity to man.
Sensitively told.
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Thank you CE. There are plenty of examples of that in our world to draw on.
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Sometimes surviving can be a cruel punishment too
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True. The aftermath of such events is lifelong, I feel.
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Excellent piece Margaret
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Thank you, Iain.
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Dear Margaret,
Such a sad tale. Very well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It is sad. Thank you, Rochelle.
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A chilling tale. I wonder if his father suspected he might need somewhere to hide one day.
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I’m so glad you picked that up. That was my intention, and in the longer piece I started with it was much clearer.
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Such a good story, Margaret. Not a happy one but a well-written one.
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Thank you, Dale.
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The forethought of the father. Brilliantly told.
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Yes, the father knew what was coming. Thank you for your kind comment, Violet.
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Oh, he was afraid of the lions when fellow humans were the real monsters, The lions, roar and shape, bring back the memories. I hope they aren’t portents. Wonderful and sad story, Margaret.
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That’s right – he didn’t have to fear the lions at all, but the memories of the horrific events of his childhood will never disappear. Thanks, once again, for your insightful and encouraging reply, Gabriele.
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A chilling story, he remains trapped by his past. I actually knew someone who had a similar experience at the age of eight during the partition of India. He told me that even fifty years later, he woke up on some nights reliving that terror.
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Unfortunately, it’s something experienced by too many people. The cruelty we humans are capable of astounds me. Thanks for your reply, subroto.
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It makes me feel sad, he lost his father, and he is left only with a memory 😦
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True. It is a sad story. And a sad memory. Thanks for commenting.
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You are welcome.
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Great piece Margaret, thank God the father had the foresight to teach his son about the hiding place and how to get there
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Thank you, Michael. The father knew what was coming.
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Such a good story, Margaret. The flashback was perfect giving meaning to the end. 🙂 — Suzanne
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It was a bit tricky doing such a big a time leap in 100 words. I originally had an asterisk separating the two parts, but decided against it. Thanks, Suzanne.
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You’ve crafted this story so well, Margaret. The references to lions tie the past and present together seamlessly. So poignant and powerful.
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That’s good to hear. I’m encouraged by your observation about the story structure. It’s so important to get it right. Thank you.
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You’re welcome. Writing a well-structured story in only 100 words is more difficult than one may think!
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With a memory like that you will always be haunted.
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and mother lion calls her cubs to safety.
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Ngabo’s parents were able to keep him safe, but yes, he’s haunted by what happened. Thanks, Bjorn.
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Love the lion metaphor for the brutal attack with machetes. Perhaps he was right to be fearful. And how provident that his parents taught him how and where to hide. Very moving.
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His parents knew where the real danger lay. Thanks for your comment – so glad you liked the metaphor.
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A sad story, but at least poor Ngabo survived the night of the machetes. Well written tale, Margaret
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Thank you, Lynn. Yes, he survived, but can’t forget.
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We can only hope he managed to live through the trauma and make a life for himself. My pleasure
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Sadly stark and real. A well-written piece.
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Thank you for reading.
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Wow, a powerfully sad story. Nicely written!
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It is a sad story. Thank you for your comment, Brenda.
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Another violence erupted. Good Ngabo knew of the hiding place. Else he would be a victim too.
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His parents had foresight and prepared him well. Thanks for commenting, Abhijit.
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A lovely piece, Margaret. Well done.
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Thank you, Sandra.
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This was really well crafted. He was afraid of lions, only to be a survivor of human cruelty. The image of the land shaped like a lion, reminded me of Lion’s Head in Cape Town. I loved this. Well done.
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That’s interesting. There’s an island near where I live called Lion Island, which is what gave me the idea. Thank you for your encouraging comment, Fatima.
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So atmospheric! This may well be my favorite story this week!
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How on earth did your comment post on May 1, Dawn… when it was posted this morning, on the 30th! Just noticed as I left mine.
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Must be a time zone thing.
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Too funny!
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What a lovely comment. I’m delighted to be so favoured. Many thanks, Dawn.
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WOW! This is truly amazing, Margaret! I’m with Dawn, probably my favorite this week… as late as I am to the stories! Really powerful!
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I’m so happy that it worked, Dawn. Thank you for such a wonderful reply – so encouraging.
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Really enjoyed it!
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Oh gosh. Great story. A lot of emotion here.
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Thank you, Laurie. It’s an emotional topic.
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