welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Thursday, August 26, 2010


welcome readers & writers. many thanks to De Langer, Hot Irons (welcome new poster!), Brian Potopowitz, and author (and new poster!) Kathryn Magendie for yesterday's great stories! 
come write with me about today's photo by submitting your story, poem or creative non-fiction writing below; click on comments to post it, 250(ish) words or less. i love to read your work! 
Cassie was annoyed the first time she found Sue sitting in her seat at lunch. Granted, the dining area was open to anyone who worked in the office complex. But Cassie had claimed the window seat for six years. From twelve-thirty to one every day she would sit with her Harlequin of the week and take small bites of a soggy cheese and pickle sandwich on white, work her way through a baggie full of Lays, and top it all off with a Yoo-Hoo and a hostess cupcake. Cassie knew she had two choices.  She could sit somewhere else, and maybe lose her favorite seat forever, or she could stake her claim by sitting in the other chair. "Mind if I join you?"  "Oh, no, please," said Sue. "I sure hope I haven't stolen your seat." "Well..." said Cassie, forcing a shrug so she might look nonchalant. "We could share."  Sue smiled, gestured to the other chair, and took a bite of her salad.  Cassie noticed that salad was all Sue had in front of her for lunch. That and water. No wonder her arms were twiggy, thought Cassie. Anorexic, maybe. But then she reminded herself not to judge a book by its cover. They chatted about their respective jobs and Cassie filled Sue in on as much office gossip as she knew, which wasn't much. Sue told Cassie that she'd moved to the city for a new start after a bitter divorce. That was the first day. Monday through Friday, from twelve-thirty to one, for the next thirty-five years the two shared the window seat. They were the resident office Odd Couple, and, after just a few weeks, the best of friends. 
looking forward to reading your spin on the photo. write away! 


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  2. Sarah couldn't stop thinking about the chairs. She'd passed them on the way that morning, rushing to make it to work on time. Two empty chairs, obviously set in a way for two people to sit, and be together, and maybe just look out the window. But they were empty.


    The image kept coming back to her through the morning bustle of messages and meetings. Time and again she caught herself daydreaming, imagining sitting in one of those chairs. At those moments she would look at her officemates and try to picture one of the frenetic, flitting workers filling the other chair, sitting still and quiet, but she just couldn't get the image to stick.

    By lunch - taken late again - she knew she had to be in one of those chairs. The stillness of it, being removed from the bustle outside that window... Oh yes, she didn't just want it, she needed it. But who would share it with her? A ghost of an idea played at the edge of her mind, but it wouldn’t form.

    The rest of the day she racked her brain trying to fill that seat. She wasn’t a hermit, after all. She always had a buddy or date for coffee, or dinner, or a movie. Why not this? Why didn’t any of them fit?

    When she finally was able to leave work, it was very late. She fled the office at a run, and raced to the little building that had so captured her attention that morning.

  3. "It's not that cool, you know."

    "I know. But it's not about cool. It's about the color of those chairs, how they're just...there. Blue. You know."

    "Not really."

    "Shush. Now be quiet while I take it."


    "That's the problem with digital -- you can take as many pictures as you want and there's no price to pay. No need to parcel them out, only shooting when you're good and ready. You can take crappy shots all day and it doesn't cost you nothin'."

    "Oh, be quiet! If you had your way we'd all still be dropping off film at the drugstore and waiting days to know whether or not we had any good ones. Are you saying this is a crappy shot?"

    "Not necessarily. But you do realize our reflection will be in it, right?"


    "Damn. Let's move over a little, and I'll take some more to see if we can get ourselves out of the way."

    "Like I said, that's the problem with digital. Nothin' to pay."

  4. The blood is gone now and the only smell left is of grass and wind and life. But years ago I died sitting in the chair on the left. Shot from the street. In the head. My body slumped against the glass and slid down, my body broken and suddenly wrong. Blood pooled in my eyes and everything really did go red.

    I died.

    I awoke.

    I must say superpowers are outstanding. Really really nice. I believe that “they” rescued me that day because I have a greater purpose than becoming compost in some grave. I have spent four years recovering and suffering surgeries and procedures. Painful body wracking injections of acid and the cutting… I didn’t think it would end. At some point the screaming stops and you can black out. Die. Over and over.

    But now, on my first day of freedom, I have come back here. To see what I can see. And I can see so much more now. I can see where the bullet must have come from. I can see exactly where I slid to the floor and died. I can see the three men in sunglasses who have been following me all morning. So freedom may be a little further from my fingertips… but I can reach it now, when I am ready.
    I wonder when you die, if this is what actually happens to all of us. Or most. Or any? Or am I the only one. TTFN.

  5. Everyday I see them. They sit and watch. Never speaking. Never looking at each other. Just sitting. And watching. And thinking? What do they think about? Do they long to be on the other side of the glass? Do they have hopes? Do they have dreams? I wonder are they friends. What do they do when not on the blue seats? Although I have never the seats empty. I wonder would they welcome a visitor? A visit from a stranger. Would they get a thrill? Or would it be an imposition? It would be selfish though. I would not be doing it for them. It would be for me. For my curiosity. That would not be fair. I see their eyes follow me. They follow as I pass. I waved once. They didn’t react. I just smile now. When I am not too self absorbed. I have come to like them. Once I heard a kid mock them. I was angry. I wanted to defend them. Defend their honour. I feel they need protecting. But from what? Is that why they are there? What did they do before? I know it will happen. Some day. The seats will be empty. I will be sad. I know it. I just know it.

  6. As I put on my lipstick and checked myself in the mirror,a butterfly tickled my stomach.I was relieved the day was here, finally after months of waiting.
    The note had been sent. May 23, meet me at Joe's.The note was returned,Can't wait...
    It had been a hard year for the both of us.Trying to keep up the mortgage payments and keep myself busy at the same time.Finding a balance between the two was very diffucult.Work was easier. The down time,well,lonely.
    I spritzed on his favorite perfume and did my hair just the way he liked.
    My thoughts kept reflecting back to all of the selfless hard work he has given all these years.I've missed him.
    I know it's best for all of us this way,I'd remind myself.
    As I looked at the clock my heart yearned to be near him, even more than this past year.It must have been the anticipation than had taken hold.My hands were trembling all the way there.
    I ordered two glasses of Chardonnay and sat.I was a half hour early for our meeting, and was hoping for it to meet the expectations I had set for it so long ago.My hands were still trembling.I remembered this spot.It was part of our past.We would sip wine and peer out at the canal that ran past the 'best seats in town'It was our place.Everyone should have memories like that,even if thats all they are.
    I looked at my watch and put my glass down.
    "Welcome home soldier....."