The uprooted trees symbolised the turmoil in her thoughts, a burning itch of fire ants on her skin. The bitter drink aggravated the snake coiled in her belly, a mixture of freedom with the dread of discovery.
Last night’s tempest thundered like a herd of stampeding buffalo battering the hotel with spears of rain, and the window crashed across the room. She acted on impulse, a frenzied flash of angry until the bedsheets resembled an impressionist canvas of red.
Her cup rattled in the morning quiet. The train departs at seven and she will travel alone.
Getting married during the pandemic, and keeping to the government’s flickering fickle rules, took a steady nerve and firm determination by this couple.
Married in New Lanark on 30th May 2021.
He Never Leaves the Seat up
He never leaves the seat up or wet towels upon the floor The toothpaste has the lid on, and he always shuts the door She’s very clean and tidy though she may sometimes delude Leave your things out at your peril or in a second, they’ll be moved.
He romances her and he dines her Home cooked dinners and the like He even knows her favourite food and spoils her day and night She’s thoughtful when he looks at her, a smile upon his face Will he look that good in fifty-years When his dentures aren’t in place.
He says he loves her figure and her mental prowess too Though when gravity takes her over, will she charm with her IQ? She says she loves his kindness, and his patience is a must And of course, she thinks he’s handsome, which in her eyes is a plus.
They’re both not wholly perfect but who are we to judge He can be pig-headed, or she’ll not even budge All that said and done they love the time they spend together And I hope as I am sure you do that this fine day will last forever.
He’ll be more than just her husband, he’ll also be her friend And she’ll be more than just his wife, she’ll be his soul mate till the end This poem, for Heather and Stephen a married couple now, is a token of the love they share and the thoughts behind each vow.
I am amazed how the BMW in Liz Young’s photo-prompt does not appear to have any damage, considering the wall and railings are in pieces.
You can read more Friday Fictioneer’s contributions and stories here.
She drives wearing high heels, rummages in her handbag and, at junctions, if she stops, she has to text the kids. When we are in the car, she will nag at me. You missed the kids’ school play and games day–-a crime in her eyes. The traffic accident held me up. I didn’t get home until midnight. Apparently, I never liked her Mum. Hell! the poor lady died before we met.
You are wearing the wrong shirt, and Martha will comment on it.
This week’s picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers flash fiction showing an entanglement of trees and their roots is interesting for me. I spent some time trying to determine what the type of tree it was. I came up with–an American Beech or possibly Eucalyptus.
Legend tells of a Green Man and of an underground city dripping with gold and silver. Myth requires the first born in spring as a sacrifice at the roots of the great, grey tree to fertilise the forest and ensure an abundant harvest from our fields.
Everyone in Cronbourne keeps clear of the tree in May and we wear a sprig of silver birch to deter evil.
Martha laughed and went searching for hidden treasure. We continuously called and heard her mobile ring within the tree.
The autumn harvest was excessively rich that year.
This week’s photo-prompt , thanks to CE Ayr, has a sense of isolation and one I am sure many people are feeling in the present atmosphere of Covid restrictions. At the same time there is a sense of peace in the image that I feel when walking along a quite beach early in the morning, preferable on a Caribbean island rather than along a cold, wind swept coast.
John relished the solitude of his dawn stroll. He walked and breathed in time with the natural rhythm of the waves as he listened to the soft adagio whoosh of water washing along the sand. His mind relaxed and emptied of all invasive thoughts as he concentrated on the peace of the moment. Mentally refreshed and calm, he felt prepared with emboldened fortitude and leadership expected from a head teacher.
His knees trembled as he watched. After an enforced break, over excited, chattering children arrived as their pale-faced parents waved anxiously from the gate. He wiped his forehead and smiled.
This week’s picture prompt, thank you Dale Rogerson, reminds me of the odd freak snowfall we sometimes get in May. Also, how sometimes we get caught out by a sudden spring frost that decimates the border flowers planted out the week before. Weather around the world follows a similar pattern each year, yet nature surprises us with unpredictable events. Nature loves us, really.
We had held hands on the veranda listening to Spanish guitar music, watching the meteors streak across the night sky. We had bread with bratwurst dipped in Dijon and drank Pilsner. One shooting star momentarily lit up the entire street and Baxter scampered indoors whimpering, Caroline followed to calm our Labrador. It was a hot summer with an uncomfortable, sweaty night, but in the morning, I woke to a sharp frost with a snow-covered garden. I saw footprints leading to the rose-bed, then stop. By midday the snow had gone, as was Caroline and Baxter. It has been three years.