Table for Two/Monday 5PM – Poetic Fiction

Time for another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the froggy link (after this piece) and come join us!

This photo reminded me of a poem I wrote a year or so ago.  Since my interest, now, is expanding my poetry into a story, I thought I’d try that out here again.  It’s sort of another Sissy and Buck romance thing:

Table for Two/Monday 5PM

It was the largest bunch of daisies Sissy had ever seen. It arrived,  at 5PM,  one horrible Monday afternoon.  The card read:

Let’s hop a train for dinner.
We can see where it leads.
If you have a few nights
we could get a cabin
where the sounds of whistles
and tracks rushing by
would take us
places we don’t have to be.

Your poet,
Buck

It’s just like Buck to think I can just disappear for a few days.  Sometimes he doesn’t seem to be in touch with reality,  Sissy thought.

Boarding the train,  she was smiling behind daisies.

(EW 4/10)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(The daisies looked so bright at their table.   This is the original last sentence…doesn’t seem to be working/saying what I mean.)

Ellespeth

photo prompt © Jennifer Pendergast

He Was Her Hero – Fiction

Time for another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the froggy link (after this piece) and come join us!

He Was Her Hero

Ellen hurried about their home cleaning and organizing.  She was preparing the place for the first time her parents would be visiting.

Even though there were major imperfections that could not be hidden, her husband, Ned, didn’t mind helping her clean and organize and attempt to perfect their environment.

It was best to try to smooth some things over,  he thought.  Ned loved Ellen more than any woman had a right to be loved.

“Do you think they’ll notice that there isn’t a porch?” Ellen asked.

“Nah”,  Ned replied.  “Who’d notice such a thing?”

“Thank you,  Ned.”

“You’re welcome,  sweetie.”

Ellespeth

photo prompt © Lauren Moscato

The Importance Of Orchestration – Fiction

Time for another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the froggy link (after this piece) and come join us!

david-stewartThe Importance Of Orchestration

I was tired that night, but I’d volunteered for the decorating committee. We had enough art supplies to make 12 stained glass Easter eggs using waxed paper.  They’d look colorful hanging around the Fellowship Hall.

Outside, under the gazebo, another group had gathered to practice music for the Easter service.

I could have jumped off the side of the earth but,  you know,  I had obligations.

“What sort of obligations?”  Harris asked me as I collapsed into our bed later.

“To orchestrate of course,”  I replied.

Harris hugged me close.  I needed a hug.  I was tired that night.

Ellespeth


photo prompt © David Stewart

When Everyone Already Knows Everything – Fiction

I’ve been under the weather for our last two Friday Fictioneers .  I did write a poem – inspired by last week’s photo.  It’s here: Maybe I Like Picasso

Here’s my entry for this week.

When Everyone Already Knows Everything

After Miss Esther died, Vernal was to himself.  He seemed surrounded by a protective aura.  Most of us knew they’d been lovers, but most of us knew better than to say anything about that.  We mostly just waited and let Vernal grieve his own way.

“What should I say at the memorial?” Vernal asked me.

“What do you want to say?”  I replied.  Vernal huffed.

The memorial took place at the town’s woodsy hearth where Miss Esther had held her seasonal celebrations of one sort or other.

“Prescott County was damned lucky to have a witch, like Miss Esther, watching out for us all this time,” Vernal said in conclusion to his eulogy.

Ellespeth

photo prompt – © – Rachel Bjerke

What We Never Knew – Fiction

Time for another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the froggy link (after this piece) and come join us!

I hope people will also enjoy the afterthought I’ve added to this piece…the music that inspired me:

walking trailWhat We Never Knew

The museum came to number objects in the house for their Dust Bowl exhibit. Grandpa hadn’t changed much since Grandma had disappeared.  The farmhouse and barn they’d built was as Midwest as ever.  It’s all a Bed and Breakfast now – west of Topeka.

I was spending one last night at the old place.  I was sitting cross-legged on an old feathered guest bed reading Grandma’s last letter home to Grandpa:

…I know you’ll never understand the workings of my frail mind, dearest love.  I’m sorry.   I’m not strong enough to stay.  Stella refused to come with me…

Your loving,

Charlotte

Ellespeth

**I’ve been trying – for a year or more – to write something, anything, to show my totally lost feelings for the  words to this song – and these images.  These words and these images so relevant to us – always.

I’ve read that, during the Dust Bowl,  women hung themselves over the impossibility of living up to the expectation of keeping a clean house.  As a woman, this fact won’t leave my mind.

Here is the song that inspired this story.   Thank you for reading and listening.
E

 

photo prompt Copyright Dawn Landau

Parking Lessons – Fiction

Time for another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the link (after this piece) and come join us!

crystalsParking Lessons

We were driving down Main Street. It was the last practice run before my daughter, Sara’s,  driving test. “You probably won’t get tested on this but it’s worth practicing one more time.” I said.

“What’s that, Dad?” Sara asked.

“Parallel parking. Pull up here, at the Exxon Building, and park in front,” I instructed.

“Okay, Dad.”

“Turn more left now, Sara.”

The car jerked suddenly.

“Left, Sara!”

And then it was too late. We’d backed into the building’s front window. The glass seemed so thin when it shattered, and the car leaked a bit of oil onto the lobby floor.

Ellespeth

photo prompt  – © Marie Gail Stratford

When Mae Ella Died – A Story Poem

Another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the link (after this piece) and come join us!

Thank you for this photograph, Rochelle, and the chance to write these words.

***I’ve changed this (two words worth) a bit since it first went up.  This piece still doesn’t feel done to me…I’m going to keep it up, though. That’s just the way it goes sometimes…***

balcony

When Mae Ella Died

In the end, I couldn’t believe it.
The package arrived
the day after we lost father

the day before …
the day before…what mattered?
Then died my Mammy.  The only true mother
I’d ever known.

This evening
in the center of the enclave
we remembered her
my sisters and my brothers
my mother and I.

I brought forth the package
sent by my Mammy.
Inside
nestled in the softest strands of silk
laid our father’s baby locks.

Everybody smiled.
Everybody cried.
Everybody drank a little bit.

Ellespeth

photo prompt ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

When The Moment Was Lost – Fiction

Another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below. Click on the link (after this piece) and come join us!

garden-mazeWhen The Moment Was Lost

Beyond the garden maze, Sonya could see the gazebo;  beyond the gazebo,  Weeping Willow Swamp.  It was spring.  The scent of wild magnolia and wisteria wafted in the air.   Spanish Moss swayed gently in the breeze.

Sonya joined the other women for a quiet meditation.  They walked within the maze.  Later, they made their way, single file, to the gazebo.  There were seven of them.  Inside the gazebo,  the women formed a circle and held hands.

One of them sneezed.  Sonya giggled.  The spell had been broken.  In the end,  they decided just to drink some wine and trance dance.

Ellespeth

 

photo prompt © Melanie Greenwood

When A Dream Came To Pass – Fiction

Another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below.  Click on the link (after this piece) and come join us!

on-on-offWhen A Dream Came To Pass

As Isabel dozed off, the image of her little girl went with her. Tiny Selene, intubated yet blue. Isabel went to sleep whispering to her little one,  “Mommy loves you so.”

And that’s when Artemis came singing. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry.”

“Is that you?” Isabel asked.

“Yes,” came the soft reply.

“That’s one of my favorite lullabies.” Isabel hummed along. “My sweet Selene isn’t going to make it, is she?”

“She’s with me now,” Artemis whispered.

“Is she happy?”

“She is.” Artemis ran her fingers though Isabel’s hair.

“Does she remember me?”

“She does.”

Ellespeth

photo prompt – Copyright Ted Strutz

The Things We’d Like To Text Sometimes

 Another installment of   Friday Fictioneers  hosted by Rochelle.  100 words or so based on the image below.  Click on the link (after this piece) and come join us!

boatpilxr_-antiqued (1)The Things We’d Like To Text Sometimes

Her:
It’s just a little skiff
headed nowhere in particular
specifically so I guess logically
you’d be more than welcome
to set off with me
from here
–  moored at Pier 39
right off the bar.
Bring rubbers
but otherwise travel lightly.

Her:
I mean
how much more
spontaneous
can someone
like me
possibly be
?

Her:
This is an open-ended
invitation. See?
No need
to RSVP.
Moored for 20 minutes
at Pier 39
right off the bar

Her:
So
don’t forget I love you
don’t forget that
don’t forget
fini
kiss, kiss.

Ellespeth

photo prompt –©Georgia Koch