This week I am last with my piece of flash fiction. Charli asked us to write about the charisma of the crane. Better late than never so here is my piece.
The stern countenance of the old warrior looked peaceful despite the wails and lamentations of the women of the village. The feathers of the blue crane, or indwe, stuck out of his hair; a startling contrast to his lined and worn features.
During his life, he had been proud of this illustrious decoration. The feathers had been bestowed on him by the Chief of his Xhosa tribe at the ceremony called ukundzabela. The great battle at which he had distinguished himself would always be remembered by his descendants. He had been one of the men of ugaba or trouble.
I don’t have a fondant crane to share so you got to enjoy an ostrich. You can read the other…
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