Character Absorption

Image Credit Brooke Lark

Character Absorption – 100 Word Wednesday

“Mary sobbed, more dreadful news from Vietnam, and she switched off the radio. She dried her face, now she would make the same breakfast she had once shared with Abe.”
Elizabeth slammed the novel shut. ‘Wait!’ she rushed off and returned to the garden with pancakes and strawberries.
Like Mary, she tasted the sweet softness and warmth of chocolate, the cool refreshing juice from the strawberries and she wiped Abe’s lips with a napkin – Would they ever see him again?
“Mary’s hair, blown by the hot prairie wind, flapped around her face. She watched a dust cloud race across the plain and screech to a stop by the porch. A solemn faced priest and a soldier came towards her. She gasped.”
Elizabeth gulped and spilled her coffee turning the last page.
“It was Abe. Mary threw herself into his arms. The priest gave a small cough.”
Elizabeth sucked a strawberry through her lips.
““Mary Charlene Baxter, will you marry me.” Abe held out a glistening ring.”
Tears rolled down Elizabeth’s cheeks and mingled with the chocolate sauce dripping from her chin – ‘Yes’ she screamed.

 

 

The Doctor

The Doctor

100 Word Wednesday – Week 28

Image by Bikurgurl

Holmes was immortal, and distraught as he felt like an inanimate antique hoarded by an impulsive collector. He was in a delirious mood and was not making sense in his drug induce daze, mumbling about eternal regeneration and the beginning with no end to an infinitive universe.
“Quick, bring some hot chicken broth,” I called to Mrs Hudson.
Holmes leapt to his feet and sprinted from the room.
’Too late,’ I shouted. Running after him, I caught up and found him in a curiosity shop.
“Watson, we are but dusty relics,” said Holmes, and he blew dark smoke from his obnoxious weed across my face.
“I wish you’d refrain.” I coughed. “Why are we here? Pottery?”
“Why does the Doctor need this stoneware from Old Kent Road?”
“A gift or perhaps an inheritance?”
“Yes, his nostalgia for all things London.”
These days, I was at my wits end with Holmes as he had become obsessed, and I often recoiled from his constant rages, madness and frustrations. He was determined to uncover the identity of the Time Lord, the imposter.
“What does this collection tell you Watson?’
“He is having guests for tea.”
“No Watson, can’t you see his next location is surely eighteen hundreds mid-west.”
“Oh, I like the flowers, a nice feminine touch.”
“Damn Watson! It is a woman!”
“About time.” I chuckled, and couldn’t imagine Holmes with a wife.
“No, no, no.” Holmes fell to his knees. “I’m now searching for an elusive woman.”
I put my hand on his shoulder to console the poor chap. I smiled.