Table For Two

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Dale Rogerson

We were young once.

I can’t really remember how it felt, but it must have been better than how all these years on my shoulders feel. The face in the mirror avoids me and I am trying to decide if I am bothered by what I see.

It sneaked upon me yesterday…the realization I stopped crying. I am afraid our memories will start to slip away and you will disappear from the seat across from me. The table for two that usually seemed too small threatens to devour me.

And still…in my dreams we are always together.

Scotch-taped

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Ted Strutz

When another tragedy sneaked its way into her already fractured world, she tried to pick up all the pieces and hold them together with a scotch tape. It held remarkably well for the longest time.

World moved on at its usual pace and she fell behind. With time she mastered the smiles of reassurement, avoiding those awkward moments when people ask you how you feel, hoping you wont break down in front of them.

Although the scotch tape still holds her together, few little pieces are irreversibly lost and she wonders when will it all fall apart.

For Irena…always and forever.

Elysium

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Gah Learner

“Stay.”

His whisper caresses the scar on my neck, where my new C3 vertebra struggles to settle in. Doctors don’t miss the opportunity to point out how lucky I was. Sometimes I wish they failed to repair me.

Sigurd wishes my crew failed to repair the ship, but wishing is for fools, love-struck or any other kind. Every so often I wonder how our lives would turn if I was of a submissive sort.

He whispers “stay”, but we both know I am gone…long before I walk out that room.

The moon, my lover,
My one faithful companion
Welcomes my tired soul.

Voiceless

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –  Liz Young

By nature, I am a quiet person. It always felt almost absurd to yell or scream.

That changed when the nurse told me you died. Later I would find out the words of consolement were a lie, that you suffered and they failed to do everything they could.

Lying on a hospital bed, you looked like you fell asleep and that gave me a quantum of solace. But my strength is tested every day, in thousand insignificant ways.

Truthfully, it is not the loss I feel that is unbearable, but all the years that were stolen from you.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
—But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone;
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
                                             – William Wordsworth

I know you will always be by my side, because I will forever keep you in my heart.

From Afar

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Jellico’s Stationhouse

The soft afternoon light follows the shadows waltzing across the wall, like a lover following the one who offers only a heartbreak. Curtains part before a breeze that carries the fragrance of spring flowers and something long forgotten. The music sneaks around the old furniture, whimsically scattered across the room. Two entangled bodies reflect in the large mirror at the foot of the bed, offering a splendid portrait of wasted chances. A long-case clock in the corner mocks the thieves, as the stolen time slips away.

His arms hold me tight.

This wont last.

But I don’t care about tomorrow.

Loré de Orne

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

crook-roof

 Copyright –  Sandra Crook

“You’ve never been to France? Then why did you give her that name? Loré…it is such a strange name.”

My mother was rarely fazed by unkind questions.

It was a special talent of hers, a secret weapon that she passed down to me, this ability to ignore rudeness and shush people with just a smile.

“Because she is a ray of light and a splash of color in the murkiness of my life.”

Years later she held me close and whispered in my ear: “You saved me, my little sunshine.”

I wish I could have done more.

Gallery

How To Do The Ignore

Presenting the master!!!

Of many talents that Berta just refuses to show to me, one she is very proud of. Somehow she mastered the ignoring technic, refusing to look at me when I am trying to take a photo of her.

Look at her…it can’t all be the coincidence, right?

But to be fair, sometimes she takes pity on me and gives me her adorable smiles…or at least a side-eye.

Just a bit of silliness for Monday…weekend is too far away.