welcome, readers & writers.
today's writing prompt is not so much about the black and white photo above (one i took on a wind farm in west texas). today's prompt comes from this headline about some photo negatives set out in a yard sale - photos which may (or may not) be the work of ansel adams, celebrated photographer and environmentalist. adams (1902-1984) is renowned for his black and white photos of the american west.
here's my take on a treasure unearthed:
"That's it, my dear," says my wife, setting her bouquet of plastic shopping bags on the kitchen floor. "Anything yet?" When I don't answer she whirls around to look at me. I'm just back from Gerty's house; we've been, well, let's just say, helping a friend empty out the home of the sweet old gal. Last of the spinster sisters in her family, Gert was quite the pack rat. "What? What?" squeals Margie, tossing a block of cheese any old where on the counter. Bouncing on the balls of her feet she looks nothing like the seventy year old woman she is and everything like the nineteen year old girl I married. "Maybe just a little something," I say, reaching down with a grunt to nudge two big dish pack boxes toward her. "One for you, and one for me," I say. From a wrapped bundle in the nearest box she unearths a teacup. "Handpainted, from England," I tell her. "Pattern is called Victoria, like the queen. A set of twelve, with saucers and dinnerplates and salad plates and, get this, a gravy boat to boot." She coos and cradles the teacup like a glasswing butterfly. Margie knows as well as I do how much these dishes will bring on ebay. Her bouncing slows and then stops before her eyes find mine. "What?" I say, reaching for the gravy boat and holding it out to her on one calloused hand. "See? Now don't go all soft on me." "We're supposed to be helping," she whispers. "That's right," I say, refusing to let myself think about it anymore. "And how many hours have we spent in that pigsty. Our time is worth a little something, right darlin'?" She lifts the teacup as if to make a toast. "Right," she says. "To Gert." I lift the gravy boat in reply. A magpie chatters outside the window and we both look away.
how about you? spin us a tale about treasure lost, found or stolen. click on comments below. 250(ish) words or less. i so enjoy reading your work.
Davey lifted his glass and took a long gulp to steady his nerves. He had finally had enough of missing his chance. He had swatted away all his annoying excuses that buzzed round his mind. There was never going to be the perfect time for this, yes she was broken hearted (again) at being dumped and yes it was worth risking the friendship.
ReplyDelete“Jaime, I want to say something.” said Davey, trying to keep the nerves from warbling his voice. “I love you.”
Jaime looked up slowly. She scanned his eyes for humour. She found none. She scanned his eyes for drunkenness. She found none. She stared blankly at him for the longest time.
“Are you sure?” Jaime said.
“Am I sure??? I have been sure for years!!” answered Davey.
“But I never thought you liked me like that at all. I had assumed you had always just wanted us to be just friends”
“I love you so much, I want to cry right now.” said Davey in a weak voice.
“I love you too, Davey. I love you too.” Jaime said, as she pulled him to her for a hug that would last a lifetime.
there it is.
ReplyDeletethat land they say is out there somewhere
the land that seems to be just rolling on and on. forever and ever. this is a new thing for a city boy like me. land that is free. never been disturbed before. this clean never ending mess of glorious wonderful land.
nope. it's not true!
there is no longer land that is pure and undisturbed.
i know this because i can see a windmill out my bus window now. and i just realized that this whole time we have been driving, we haven't seen any undisturbed land... because we are driving on a road!!
this is what was passing through my head as we drove along in that stupid, dirty, smelly, giant bus. full of spoiled rotten brats from all over LA
as we reached our next stop i heard a scream from the back of the bus. i ran to the back to see some of the teenage girls freaking out because of the dog in a pile of dirt they must have just realized was behind their seats. then some of the boys head up the aisle prepared to act like "men" and force the dirty mutt off the bus. "don't!" i cry.
"just leave it undisturbed."