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Here is the photograph and my story:
A Wagon for Marion’s Garden
Marion waved her hands neither this way nor that and looked at Bradley as though his question had not baffled her at all.
“What do you mean ‘what will we ever do with that’?” She seemed stunned. “You act like it’s a piece of rubbish I’ve brought home. I can’t believe how lucky I was at the Estate Sale this afternoon.”
They were standing on a heap of dirt behind their new suburban home. They hadn’t finished unpacking. The grass lawn had not yet been planted.
“Can’t you see how wonderful that wagon will look in the garden of our new home?” Marion asked.
“Let me try to phrase this another way,” said Bradley. “Where will we store this until we are ready to use it?”
“Right here next to the Burford’s solar panels,” Marion replied matter-of-factly.
Here is my submission for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Etol Bagam, author of the blog, Creative Busyness. Thanks to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.
Happy Thanksgiving to y’all. I hope you enjoy this installment of my favorite fairy, Chloe.
Hahaha! It would certainly help if I posted my story to the challenge! So here goes – a day late – and also, click the froggy for more entries.
Chloe Comes Calling
One afternoon, several years after Irene died, I decided to visit the garden where we’d spent so much time together. From the moment Irene was born, and until the day she passed away, I was her bedroom fairy. My name is Chloe.
On this particular afternoon Irene’s grand-niece, Karen, was playing under an old oak tree. Her mother had inherited the family home and worked hard to keep the garden’s beauty blooming through the seasons. I was quietly floating between colorful metal statues of garden art.
Karen knelt down near to where I thought I was so carefully hidden. “Well, hello there!” she whispered.
“You see me?” I asked.
“Yes, I do.”
I floated closer to her. Only people who believe in fairies can see us.
“And I even know who you are,” Karen said.
“Karen, who are you talking to?” her mother asked as she approached us.
“It’s Chloe, Mother!”
We had a lovely tea party. Karen’s mother shared memories of Irene. The air was scented with mint and laughter.
We’re back and settling in after our escape to the Pescadero/Half Moon Bay area – about an hour from home, but a totally different world. Everything was even more beautiful than we’d imagined…and more peaceful and quiet save the birds and crickets making beautiful music. When we were at the cottage, we remained fairly silent and had lovely quiet time – no music – no sounds other than nature’s. I’m so glad to know that there is this place so nearby. I would like to escape there alone – for at least two weeks – to see what I can come away with.
We met the gardener! He must work other jobs in the area, and would arrive late afternoons to do a bit of taking care. What a beautiful act of love this is!
Alas, sooner or later, one must (usually) return from a vacation. And so, here I am. Here’s what I’m currently reading:
The Constitution of the United States
The Declaration of Independence
The Articles of Confederation
The first chapter to Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman. (I finished this pre-publication chapter release this afternoon…I can’t wait to read the entire novel. I hope she’ll write an autobiography. Maybe she already has it written. Did you know she grew up living next door to Truman Capote? Those small Southern towns have given us some great writers!
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft – by Stephen King (I’m really liking this book and will finish it this weekend.)
Savage Beauty – a biography about Edna St. Vincent Millay – by Nancy Milford. I’ve been reading this one for months now. It’s a great book but difficult emotionally. Edna St. Vincent Millay is in my blood. My mother introduced me to her work when I was in junior high school, and that set me upon the road of Poet.
I’d like to write a novel.
I’m going to attempt a 400 word story about the word “merry”. I may finish that tonight as well. The actual challenge, itself, can be found here.
So, I’m pretty much all over the place in my life right now.
This story marks a year I’ve been pestering people with Friday Fictioneers. I really never dreamed that I could write a story almost as short as my poetry, so I’m grateful for the encouragement I’ve received here. For me, Friday Fictioneers has become as addictive as Crème Brûlée.
My offering, this week, is a 100 word piece about Chloe – a fairy character I’ve written about before in my infrequent series “Once Upon A Bed Again”
When Miss Randolph died she left behind a garden – famous for miles around, and me.
My name is Chloe. I’m a fairy and I live in a dewdrop, on a bougainvillea leaf, deep in Miss Randolph’s garden. I’m moving today. It won’t be the same here without her. You see, we’ve known each other since she was a young child. When I first moved here, I was her bedroom fairy. Then I was her garden fairy. At the end, I was once again her bedroom fairy.
I don’t want to move too far away. Miss Randolph promised she’d visit me often.
photo prompt – © Santoshwriter
Time for this week’s Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers. It begins anew each Wednesday. 100-150 words more or less. I’ll put the link to this week’s stories at the end of this piece. Drop by to read or write or both 🙂
Thanks, PJ, for providing this challenge each week and for all the work you put into this weekly event. Thanks, Dawn, for the great photo this week.
Ruth was 92 years old. She had always tried to do her part to sustain the earth. If ever it seemed a monumental task, she reminded herself that many kisses had been stolen on the old porch swing and that generations of hummingbirds had fed in her garden. For years, the wind had blown through her chimes to welcome angels and babies and all things magical and miraculous.
This particular afternoon, she and her son were sitting on the porch swing The wind was soft but persistent. The air and the earth and all around Ruth was dry. Her garden, that once welcomed horticultural enthusiasts, Ruth had picked bare to spare water for the future. Yet the drought still seemed to call her name.
“I will let it all lay fallow,” Ruth said to her son.
“Your entire garden?” Her son put his arm around Ruth’s shoulders. “Think a little longer on this, Mom. You’ve spent so many decades bringing this all to life.”
Ruth woefully shook her head. Otherwise, she did not reply.
photo prompt © Dawn M. Miller
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!
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.
photo prompt © Melanie Greenwood
When I first moved out here to be with you – before we even married – we had our first disagreement. It was over a Stefanotis plant. You became impatient in the garden shoppe. That was 14 years ago. This afternoon, we both were stunned to see it with more blooms than any other year. Late in the evenings, with the balcony door opened, a breeze will carry its wonderful scent (like jasmine) into our living room
And this Creeping Charlie. The last hanging basket we bought. You no longer become impatient at the garden shoppe. Just this afternoon, as we walked below our balcony you said…”Look how nice our hanging baskets look today!” I know, from my 63 years of living on this earth, that men do like gardens. Even balcony gardens…and we kissed as we passed under the creeping charlie.
Then I saw the hanging basket of red Impatiens. So those went to the check out hut. We walked around a bit and found a wonderful hummingbird feeder:
They live – all year – in the redwood and eucalyptus trees around our condo building. Their chirping is so sweet! Sometimes they linger at our feeder – oink! So I think they’ll like the addition of a new one. And so will we! I know the basket of red Impatiens will attract them.
In about an hour, we’ll meet your daughter for supper. She’ll fly back to Copenhagen this week-end. Nice,small, quiet Mexican place. I forget what part of Mexico the owners are from but…the food is like no other around here.
Think hummingbirds and spring! Laterz…