Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.
Our hidden place, a hollow in rustled leaves, tangled roots, as the river meanders close. I inhale verdant greenery and twigs crunch underfoot, as we sit on tree stumps near the shore.
Some occasions, the river trickles and torrents. At times, it’s poured buckets, and the banks pass eerie, too close to our feet. Sometimes it’s a kiss on our runners as we wade.
In the gleaming sun, the dimple of your left cheek lifts. Your grey-blue eyes sparkle; my hands clench as we banter. They curl around bark, roughness masking my wish to touch your hair — a hint of gray you deny. Your laughter resonates, and we quip as usual. I ruin my white Adidas twirling them in dirt. As the river, your stories flow; but, you’re to far — and to near all at once.
I peer up, nip my lip. “Keep me.” Two words implored.
Lilly was 18-years old and despite turning a year older, hated she wasn’t able to leave their house on the lake for a city university, not the prep-college in town; Lilly’s family had for generations owned a winery near her current university in Napa. After a dull birthday party she swung to-and-fro on her treasured porch swing, and scowled at the lake — her charcoaled eyes brimming tears; Lilly wondered how much criticism she’d have to endure until she could attend any university she desired in Fall. She had achieved the SAT grades for a scholarship far from the winery and her Aunt’s persistent nagging and constant mention of Lilly’s waistline; she longed for the days could attend school far north in Canada without perpetual hunger.
Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays
The driver had spun off the road decades ago and the grass climbed the old Ford’s wheels as each rainfall it grew like vines to the window sills in the cow’s pasture. The current farmer, not able to haul the truck from his fields, began to mow around it with respect for its rusted history; the story was, witnesses 50-years ago, didn’t see the driver leave. Upon examining the wreck they’d been shocked to see the driver’s seat empty, and now and then, the farmer’s daughter watched the stars from the front seat: she swore a young man in suspenders peered at the sky beside her, his hand grazing hers.
Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing Prompt. For this week’s Prompt we had to choose 4 terms, and I chose the texture jagged, the occasion just because, the feeling expectancy, and the sound grinding. Thanks also to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Challenge using the A Star is Born’ song, “Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga.
Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday. All Go Dog Go Cafe readers, guest writers, and baristas are invited to post one link to one specific post (600 words or less please!) from your blog into the comments section below.
If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.
At twilight we scramble past rocks and moss-filled beaches, as our feet skim the lake’s surface, squishing into pillow sand; we crouch in anticipation for a silver scale to gleam. The setting sun blinds, but neither of us are scared for we know now, is time to catch glittering fish-dragons; we’ve lost enough to ensure we grasp them all. They’re shadows leap into the marmalade sky, plashless but fated the moment we spotted them.
The baristas at Go Dog Go Cafe are big fans of Pay It Forward Thursdays. We think it is a great opportunity to give a shout-out to another writer who has wowed us or creatively inspired us. It a great way to share the love and pass it on to the readers. It also becomes a great pool for excellent reading stuff by your fellow readers of the WordPress community.
You are invited to post one link to one specific post of poetry, short story, or flash fiction, 300 words or less please, from someone else’s blog in the comments below.