welcome readers & writers. thank you writers for yesterday's awesome moonstruck stories. and a shout out to two brand new posters, brian and ash! all in all a successful spoof saturday.
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my neighbor, a wedding planner & florist, brought by a bucket of gorgeous leftover flowers last night. couldn't help myself but snap a few pics for today's photo prompt.
my written contribution today is an (abridged) excerpt from Friday, Saturday, Someday, my recently completed novel. Glory, the main character pines for a life more beautiful than her own. this scene is a flashback to her high school days and the first thing she chooses to do on the first night she's given use of the family car:
Coming upon her favorite house in the neighborhood, she pulled over and turned off the headlights. By the light of the moon a diagonal pattern of lawnmower lines shimmered on the grass. The elegant porch light was not burned out, and a lamp - glowing through the linen curtains in the front window - offered up a greeting to friends and admirers alike. A busty curve of shrubs flanked the front door, and three even rows of tulips stood at attention around a weeping cherry tree in the center of the lawn. True blue pansies dozed sweetly in their flower boxes, huddled together against the chill of the spring night. She supposed that everyone inside the house was also sleeping soundly, robes at the foot of their beds and matching slippers on the floor at just the spot where their feet would land in the morning. She pictured their refrigerator, the kind with an ice dispenser in the door, humming quietly next to a drying rack full of clean dishes.
At home that night she pulled off her sweatshirt and laid it at the foot of the bed. Before crawling under the covers she took off her socks and put them on the floor, exactly where her feet would land in the morning. The darkness closed in, amplifying the sounds of the house around her. A drippy faucet in the bathroom spilled an uneven melody into the sink. Through the wall she shared with her parents, voices rose and fell, one muffled sentence smothering another. She scooted as far as she could toward the bottom of the bed, a turtle in her shell.
how about you? come write with me! a story, poem, or creative non-fiction work - perhaps about longing, pining, beauty, flowers - or whatever strikes you. 250(ish) words or less, submit by clicking on comments below.
He kept trying to look at her unnoticed, but he kept getting caught. He was totally in love with her. He fell in love with her the moment she joined his team. She was beautiful and intelligent. He didn’t get too many chances to talk to her but he was kind of glad of that because he wouldn’t have had a clue what to say. He always felt very self conscious and awkward around beautiful women but around her the affliction was quadrupled. She was generous with her time and showed an interest in everyone. She smiled with ease and had a fantastic laugh. It would erupt from nowhere and fill the room. You could see the effect it had on people. You could see a sense of pride at having made her laugh invade their expression. It would usually be followed by a glance around to see if anyone was looking. She was beautiful and amazing and sexy. She was extremely fit and she just seemed to radiate health, like you could become better by being near her. He wanted so much to be near her. She looked at him and she smiled. He smiled back and wondered if he could ever be able to be himself with her. He looked away and tried to think of something funny or intelligent. But all he could think of was her.
ReplyDeletedelving into sensual
ReplyDeletecolor
awash in flowing softness
heavy scent
petal’s caress
escaping sigh of pleasure
He knew what his death meant. He had since he was a boy. It meant the end of time. The end of this age in any regard. A blessing to his father, the "All Father", he was also a curse. The hand of doom would reach from the deep upon the tip of a mistletoe dart and it would begin. End Days. Ragnarok. He, Balder, the great catalyst, would ring in the end. His brave brothers would battle troll, giant and dragon in this final ballad. Sons would go on, but not he...
ReplyDeleteBut these blossoms, lovely as they were cold rested not upon his breast, but that of his true love. Nanna, wife to the walking dead. Steadfast in her devotion, despite the futility, was herself resting with Hel. The small blossoms on her breast, cold and mocking, were all his eyes would survey. Gazing upon her, would he thought, be as the tip of a mistletoe dart.
charlotte looked down as she nervously waited for her turn to enter
ReplyDeletefor the doors to open
"im not sure im ready for this.." she whispered looking up into her father's face
"you are," he assured her,” but you'll always be my little girl!"
a tear rolled down his cheek and landed in the center of the bouquet of roses as they embraced.
She smiled at him
And he smiled back
She reached out and touched his face gently
“I know daddy.”
Another tear rolling down
then the music began to play
her music
THE music... you know.. her comes the bride..
the doors opened and they started down the aisle
she could see him up ahead
mark
in his tux looking as handsome as ever
and she knew...
she had made the right choice...
she looked down slowly
several years later…
she saw a rose petal on the ground of the attic
she picked it up and held it close to her face
remembering that day when she made a great choice that changed her life and made it amazing