Hello friends,
This is a short piece of fiction I wrote for Aniket's new site Flash Fiction. He had this wonderful idea of posting a new promt every 15 days and allowing any of us to write a piece of 1,000 words or less inspired by the picture.
I hope I can whet your appetite to pop over to Flash Fiction and for all those of you that enjoy writing fiction or poetry, to take part.
This is Aniket's first promt on his site so it's still in the beginning stages but I'm certain it'll grow from post to post to become a place where we can all interact through our love of writing - be it fiction or poems.
This is a short piece of fiction I wrote for Aniket's new site Flash Fiction. He had this wonderful idea of posting a new promt every 15 days and allowing any of us to write a piece of 1,000 words or less inspired by the picture.
I hope I can whet your appetite to pop over to Flash Fiction and for all those of you that enjoy writing fiction or poetry, to take part.
This is Aniket's first promt on his site so it's still in the beginning stages but I'm certain it'll grow from post to post to become a place where we can all interact through our love of writing - be it fiction or poems.
Hope to see you all there.... :))
HOMECOMING
"What do you think they talked about?"
"Each other."
"They never had kids, did they?"
"No."
"I can picture them, sitting there in those two chairs, content with each other's company. She's got her knitting in her hands, lovingly knitting another jumper for him. To keep him warm on chilly November evenings."
"He's got his legs stretched out in front of him, looking ahead into the horizon. Nodding now and again as she tells him who she met at the market that day."
A colourful butterfly fluttered past his face, searching for a spot to rest. Finally landing on the edge of the table.
"I wonder. How often did they sit in those chairs?"
"Every day for 67 years."
"Will we live for 67 years?"
"I hope so!"
"What happened?"
"He died of a broken heart soon after she passed away."
"Oh!"
"You must be tired darling, it's been a long day. Come on let's sit down."
Simon let his hand linger on her protruding belly as he led her to the chair. With a timid feeling of trespassing Maxine lowered her weary body tentatively onto the chair. With diffidence she balanced on the edge before slowly allowing herself the luxury of sitting back.
Her hands inched over the rough surface of the wooden arms. Fingertips fondly circling the dents deeply immerged into the soft wood. The aged leather cooled her thighs through the flimsy fabric of her summer dress.
Simon, on seeing his wife comfortable and lost in her own thoughts allowed himself to sit in the vacant chair. The soothing song of chirping crickets filled his senses. He felt the gentleness of the warm evening breeze caress his face. His frame fit perfectly into the chair.
He closed his eyes. Stretched out his legs. The crickets sang on.
"Simon…" The softness of her voice drifted into his thoughts.
His lips formed a smile as he opened his eyes. Turning his head to his wife, he found her loving gaze upon him.
Her eyes reflected his own thoughts. Simultaneously their hands reached out, meeting in the centre of the small table between them and rested there.
Fingers interwoven.
Simon let his thumb stroke the palm of the woman he loved more than anything in the world.
More than himself.
"Each other."
"They never had kids, did they?"
"No."
"I can picture them, sitting there in those two chairs, content with each other's company. She's got her knitting in her hands, lovingly knitting another jumper for him. To keep him warm on chilly November evenings."
"He's got his legs stretched out in front of him, looking ahead into the horizon. Nodding now and again as she tells him who she met at the market that day."
A colourful butterfly fluttered past his face, searching for a spot to rest. Finally landing on the edge of the table.
"I wonder. How often did they sit in those chairs?"
"Every day for 67 years."
"Will we live for 67 years?"
"I hope so!"
"What happened?"
"He died of a broken heart soon after she passed away."
"Oh!"
"You must be tired darling, it's been a long day. Come on let's sit down."
Simon let his hand linger on her protruding belly as he led her to the chair. With a timid feeling of trespassing Maxine lowered her weary body tentatively onto the chair. With diffidence she balanced on the edge before slowly allowing herself the luxury of sitting back.
Her hands inched over the rough surface of the wooden arms. Fingertips fondly circling the dents deeply immerged into the soft wood. The aged leather cooled her thighs through the flimsy fabric of her summer dress.
Simon, on seeing his wife comfortable and lost in her own thoughts allowed himself to sit in the vacant chair. The soothing song of chirping crickets filled his senses. He felt the gentleness of the warm evening breeze caress his face. His frame fit perfectly into the chair.
He closed his eyes. Stretched out his legs. The crickets sang on.
"Simon…" The softness of her voice drifted into his thoughts.
His lips formed a smile as he opened his eyes. Turning his head to his wife, he found her loving gaze upon him.
Her eyes reflected his own thoughts. Simultaneously their hands reached out, meeting in the centre of the small table between them and rested there.
Fingers interwoven.
Simon let his thumb stroke the palm of the woman he loved more than anything in the world.
More than himself.
They closed their eyes.
They knew.
The journey was over.
At long last they were home.
At long last they were home.
Yay! I love this - the soft feel of the love between them is almost palpable. (Now, I have to get over to Ani's blog and say something there!)
ReplyDeleteMargaret,
ReplyDeleteIt is like a deja-vu. I like the delicate details you have mentioned in the story. The pace is smooth and the emotions are beautiful as well. A lot said in few words. Thanks for sharing this marvellous story with us.
-Vittal
@ Karen
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you enjoyed my attempt at fiction Karen. You know well that I'm more at home with poetry but I wanted to give it a try for Aniket.
@ Vittal
I'm happy to see you had a deja-vu feeling while reading - that's a nice compliment.
Thank you for the praise, I'm delighted you enjoyed it.
It was a nice change for me from writing poems.
I hope to write more short stories so do stick around. :)
The story is like a poem. Very good.
ReplyDeleteYikes! I'm super late to drop in here. So many thanks for spreading the word around! I am super happy to have received 7 entries in the first 15 days. Way, more than I had expected. You're a gifted writer with fiction too as you add a lyrical flow to the words. The lines they always go easy on the eyes.
ReplyDelete@ Onkar
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed my little piece of fiction. :)
@ Aniket
Yeah, you're late!! But I forgive you. :D
I'm trying to come up with a piece for your 2nd promt - hope I manage before the times up! Let's see.. :)
@ Nishant
"A beautiful poetic fiction" - now that sounds nice!
Thanks for always leaving such encouraging comments. :)