Mother kept dishes of potpourri, glass pebbles and decorative eggs. My collections come from the outside, I sometimes feel guilty about taking stones, we are not supposed to. I buy crystals from Rock Shops to make me feel better.
When I met Jerry, I knew he was the man for me, in his hall on a small table next to his telephone sat a black dish filled with stones, he had collected from the outside. Sitting beside the bed now, I hold his hand, inside our hands rests his favourite stone, I know it will heal quicker than a crystal.
It is Friday again and Rochelle has posted another inspiring image for Friday Fictioneers. Find out all about it and maybe even join in with the challenge.
Friday again, time to write 100 words for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Click the button to join in.
Lee had always wanted a motorbike, his mum didn’t fancy the idea much. They were dangerous machines but George had faith in Lee. He would learn to ride well, Yvonne would see.
Lee slowed down as he approached the bend, carefully leaning with the machine.
George felt for his wife’s hand, he took a moment to catch a glimpse of her haunted face. He inhaled stiffly and squeezed her hand as they walked slowly towards the bend in the road. Without looking at her husband, Yvonne slipped her hand from his, shaking, she placed the flowers at the foot of the oak tree. If only she had put her foot down.
I envied the children in Paxton Close they had the tree. It stood outside Mark and Richard’s. In the summer we would sit underneath it, when I ran away, it was my destination. I could still see my bedroom window.
Calming, gnarled old tree missed the field in which it used to stand, surrounded by wild grass instead of muddy children, yet it watched over us as we grew up.
Decades later, all the families have been replaced. I drive past sometimes and thank it for the memories. It stands firm ready to nurture the next generation of muddy children.
My flash fiction started life as a poem – I have posted that too. Love to hear thoughts on both.
” I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.” Jevon wept, “She just jumped, there was never a chance to…..” save her he thought to himself , words he couldn’t bring himself to say anymore. Days spent as a ghost, mourning her, places he couldn’t go, pictures it was too painful to see. Deeply guilty that she could not confide in him, he was always too busy, occupied. Sarah needed his strength, he forgot that all too quickly after the engagement.
The image of her coat, flapping desperately against her fragile body, never left his mind. If only he had closed his eyes.
The original freewrite poem.
He reaches out to grab her hand,
she is falling –
falling from the ground that once held her
the rooftop paradise.
She falls through the dark skies
her coat flowing upwards like
He falls to the ground
Clings to the edge of the roof
To catch her soul.
She didn’t turn
as he ran across the rooftop.
Scrunched her eyes up
and edged closer.
Tears drowned her eyes
Salt turned her blind,
He calls something
That she doesn’t understand.
Was her own inhalation
she took her final step.
Friday Fictioneers is a challenge you can participate in too – click this week’s photo it is linked to the host blog rochellewisofffields.
Have a go and please leave me your thoughts on my effort to complete the 100 word Story Challenge.
I discovered rochellewisofffields blog yesterday and wrote my 100 word story this morning, then I realised the new challenge had been posted, I wanted to post this anyway even though I missed the deadline!
Elise wanted to leave her husband something special, show him what their love meant. What could she say to a man who had walked his whole life beside her? What would possibly fill the void where her love once lay?
With shaky hands she took the card and wrote, ‘You were always there, part of me, I am with you still, now and forever.’
She carefully wrapped up the garden sculpture she had created to make Philip smile, tucked the card into the ribbon and lay down on their bed. Waiting for him to come and hold her.