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.
