Katerina’s Kiosk – Friday Fictioneers

I remember this prompt, but for whatever reason I did not write a story for it. So, here’s a new one from me and it’s inspired by a story about Kiosks in Lisbon that I heard on NPR. See a description of the words below the story.

Thanks to our fairy blog mother Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting and to Ted Strutz for the remarkable photo. I’m five words over. Sorry about that.  I’m feeling a bit rusty.


(105 words)

Katerina’s Kiosk

Those from the old country knew “Katerina’s Kiosk” as simply “The Kiosk.” They nodded when they heard the words roll off Katerina’s tongue into the ears of her chosen ensemble of baristi, who prepared drinks with 100-year recipes.

Groselha. Capilé.

Patrons rubbing their temples, expecting their usual lager, received a frothy-white liquid of honeyed sweetness with crushed almonds and figs. Leite Perfumada.

A harpist played, plucking at your thoughts, inviting the gentle promise of new possibilities. After a visit here, patrons left jobs, wrote poetry, and traveled to faraway lands.

Don’t be afraid to get what you really want, a sign read above the bar.


Baristi – baristas (plural in Italian)
Groselha – red currant refreshment
Capilé – maidenhair leaves with orange blossom water
Leite Perfumada – perfumed milk


Click here for more stories from the Friday Fictioneers.

37 thoughts on “Katerina’s Kiosk – Friday Fictioneers

  1. OK, I want to know where this place is so I can quit my job and travel to far-off places and write poetry. It reminded me of being at a coffeehouse in Spain where Ernest Hemingway used to frequent. Very cool, Amy. I wrote a different story for the prompt, too, but I decided I could do better than the last one I wrote.

    Five out of five lumps.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Ken. I think Europeans are much better at coming together in public places. They don’t seem to worry about the clock as much as we do. Thanks for the lumps. I hope they’re lumps of sugar!


  2. What a wonderful, imaginative place. Like Neil, I just love this line: ‘A harpist played, plucking at your thoughts…’ Lisbon is a magical city as it is, and such a place there is a lovely thought. If people led the life they really wanted, would that make them happy? I wonder about the people they left behind.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much, Gah. I apologize for the delay in responding. Been swamped! Thanks foe your thoughtful comments, as always. There’s always that line between obligation and freedom, which to many feels more like selfishness. Not a simple matter at all. Thanks for the kind words. 🙂 Lisbon seems like a magical place.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. What a delightful seeming place! It evokes thoughts of Circe and magical witches with magical brews, and this time hopefully leading to better ends – but you never know. Great use of language and imagery. I love the final line.

    Liked by 1 person

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