It’s hard to get going on some of these cold mornings. A few warm-up exercises are called for. And recently I’ve been having fun with the photo prompts provided by Sarah Salway.
She has unusual tastes, not ones catered for on match.com. How can she explain the boy of her dreams would have legs like chimneys, hair the colour of roof tiles, could only sleep at forty five degrees, and would talk exclusively in smoke signals. Falling should always feeling like falling.
As each home failed them they moved on, to somewhere smaller and apparently safer. And each time they took a souvenir. The door hinges that survived the fire. The name plaque from their daughters bedroom door, found buried in the flood mud. The last supporting beam the woodworm chewed through.
He fell in love with her eyes. Both of them. The greenest green of jealousy. Voodoo. Leaves. He dreamed bad dreams whenever she stayed. And this morning he woke, her gone, no note. Just a pair of contact lenses on the pillow. Which he ate, just to recapture her taste.
5 comments:
This is beautifully evocative. I always wanted to talk exclusively in smoke signals.
I liked these... why not posting them on Sarah's site along with the rest of us?
D
Good question Douglas! Originally I was just working from the the prompt Sarah shared in my notebook. Mostly they were sprawling pieces well over 50 words, thus not sharing them in the comments sections.
Then yesterday I realised I was long overdue for a post on here, but had nothing I fancied posting, so I worked them up and stuck them up here.
But perhaps future ones I'll post in the comments with the rest of you.
'Falling should always feeling like falling' fantastic line! And eating contact lenses! Love these little pieces, a lot...x
Really beautiful!!! Congratulations!!!
Have a nice day!!!
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