Friday Fictioneers
I used to sit there. Look at it now. They said, no they promised to keep it the way it was before I left. To remember you by, they said.
I used to write there. I sat at the desk with my pen and my paper. I left them there, in that drawer. They are not there now.
My muse would perch there. Just there, on the edge of the desk. When I got stuck she whispered in my ear.
When she whispered in my ear ideas grew in my mind. Flowers opened, birds sang; in my mind.
What happened? No flowers, just rampant weeds, dying leaves. No muse. I hear no birds, not even in my mind.
I used to sit there. Look at it now.
For Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. The picture is courtesy of Sarah Potter.
Nicely done! The way you looped back is perfect. I sense a spirit visiting, for sure.
ReplyDeleteForever there. Thanks Darla
DeleteVery moving. The voice was bitterly sad. Linky not working for some so here's mine: https://castelsarrasin.wordpress.com/2017/06/07/hedera-helix-friday-fictioneers/
ReplyDeleteThanks Sandra.I'm on my way!
DeleteDear Keith,
ReplyDeleteLovely piece. A lot of emotion.
And...as Sandra pointed out...the link isn't working for the hostess either. Boo hiss! https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/06/07/9-june-2017/
Shalom,
Rochelle
That frog has some explaining to do! Thanks Rochelle
DeleteI wonder if ghosts of writers can see the characters they created? Good one.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to think so - the nicer ones of course!
DeleteThat was a beautifully emotional piece, Keith... Just lovely.
ReplyDeleteHere's mine
https://adelectablelife.com/2017/06/07/the-she-shed-friday-fictioneers/
Thank you so much Dale
DeleteSuch a beautifully emotional story. I liked the voice in this.
ReplyDeleteThe link is not working for some. Here's mine. https://neelwritesblog.wordpress.com/2017/06/07/neelwritesffplant100words07062017/
Thanks So much neel
DeleteHi Keith - so sad and so true so often ... a perfect tale ... cheers Hilary
ReplyDeleteVery kind of you Hilary
DeleteThat pic reminds me of my secretary's office in the building I used to work in. It was built 'on the cheap' and vines from outside would grow in through the bricks and foundation.
ReplyDeleteNot sure I'd want to work there! Thanks Denise.
DeleteWhat a strong ending, repeating the first line! Loved it.
ReplyDeleteIt's something I often do. It seems to work. Thanks so much liz
DeletePoignant write.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much yarny.
DeleteNo matter how much we promise to keep things just the same, they cannot stay that way. Time changes all things, and it's so sad.
ReplyDeleteTime - a fickle friend indeed. Thanks messy.
DeleteGood job Perfectly constructed.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Linda
DeleteBeautiful, Keith! There is such melancholy and longing in this piece.
ReplyDeleteI'm pleased that came across. Thanks Alicia
DeleteBeautifully done and full of emotion.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much
DeleteThe voice is sad as promises are not kept. But many promises are broken with passage of time.
ReplyDeletehttp://ideasolsi65.blogspot.in/2017/06/the-accident.html?m=1
Indeed. Thanks Kalpana
DeleteI sometimes wonder if there's a single footprint left when we leave... there is both a comfort and a fear in that thought.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't agree more. Cheers!
Deletei guess it's true you can't go home again. when i left the family home and came back many years later, it wasn't the same anymore.
ReplyDeleteThat, I have also experienced. Thanks for dropping by plaridel
DeleteBeautifully written
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Clare
DeleteA lovely but sad visit from a spirit. It seems he hasn't been able to move on. Good writing, Keith. :) --- Suzanne
ReplyDeleteAlways painful to go back and see how much a place has changed - I speak from personal experience of my nan's house. All those memories consigned to history. Nice tale, Keith
ReplyDelete