welcome

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

Showing posts with label freckled. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freckled. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

freckled


readers & writers, welcome!
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writers, join me in writing about today's photo prompt. click on comments below to share your poem, short story or creative non-fiction response. cheers!
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"Would you like another, miss?" Adin shaded her eyes, squinting to see the waiter standing over her in his white polo shirt and khaki shorts, holding an empty pina colada glass in his hand. "Please," she said, propping herself up on her elbows. He nodded, tossing her a wink as he turned away. 
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She sat up, stretching her fingers toward the sky and her toes in the general direction of the ocean, which rolled and shhhussshhheed just yards beyond the resort pool. She examined her arms and legs for signs of sunburn, supposing that she should put on some more sunscreen. "You'll freckle, dear..." Her mother's voice scolded faintly in her mind. How many years had Adin spent, at her mother's urging, confined to the shade circle of a beach umbrella or nearly suffocating in a 'lightweight' cotton wrap. And still she'd end her vacation covered with tiny freckles, a smattering across the nose, many more on her body, scattered like so much glitter across the surface of a Christmas ornament. They'd last a month or two then recede under the milky surface of her skin until next time. 
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But now, one week post finals, six months to college graduation, she'd finally realized that mother's voice, though it would always bob around in her sea of thoughts, no longer had a place as the voice heard above all others. Adin flipped onto her belly, resting her cheek against her soft nubby towel. "The thing of it is," she drawled, more relaxed than she remembered being for years, "I like my freckles." 
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