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.
