Forever…

 

A hearty thank you to Rochelle Wisoff for once again giving us a wealth of inspiration from which to write. A thank you also to Liz Young for her awesome photo! There were so many stories that came to mind. But the final choice is perhaps the shortest piece I’ve ever written; only 18 words… but this week, this day, this hour, they say it all…

Liz Young

C. Liz Young

‘Oh, this is the perfect spot.’ She giggled. ‘I just want to sit here forever!’

She was five.

WC:18

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=bif

 

 

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Sibling’s Dance

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C. Dale Rogerson

 

“Sibling’s Dance”.

The mere thought twisted my stomach. Nothing spelled ‘orphan’ like special events did. First, Mother’s Day Brunch. Great, if you could get her sober enough to come, if she’d come at all. Then, Father’s day. Oh, I hated the Father Daughter banquets. With nothing but a dead father, no use in attending. And now, this…a Sibling’s Dance. Only had half-brothers, one killed in Vietnam and the other strung out on drugs somewhere.

‘You going?’ Garylee asked.

‘No.’

‘I could adopt you for the night.’ He offered.

I headed down the hall. I wouldn’t be anyone’s ‘charity date’.

WC: 99

 

 

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=bif

Riding on…

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‘There’s nothing quite like it…’ I heard the instructor say as she held up a small stick of graphite. ‘…You’ll love it by the end of class.’

I held the stick in my hand and sighed. Paper hung on the easel, blank. I gulped.

‘Now, close your eyes and think of your favorite thing. Then, with eyes still closed, start to draw. It doesn’t have to be perfect, doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you. Just draw.’ The instructor encouraged.

Closed eyes, stick to paper, I drew… Bicycle…the escape vehicle of my youth.

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A drawing done from a collection of random photos at a Lenten study.

The photo from the table really called straight to my heart. Maybe because it reminds me so much of my own childhood. I grew up in a less than ideal situation. My bicycle was my only means of transportation until I graduated from college. It was my mainstay, my escape. Art as well served as a way to escape and relax for a while. My Mom, when she wasn’t drunk or high was quite an artist herself. I learned first from her… shade here, stipple that. Coloring was serious business in our home. The more real it looked the happier I was. I lost this ability in a car accident in 1996, and have been “riding on” to regain the skill. This drawing of the little girl is the first that really comes even close to the realism I could once create. Dare I to say that I’m just a little proud of myself in the accomplishment.