This week's prompt picture is again all over the net and various pinterest accounts globally. A lot comes up in Arabic so it could be from someone in the Middle East, but sadly can't be tracked.
Here is a link to the photo prompt for this week's challenge.
If you want to join in, here's what she's looking for:
General Guidelines:
Story length: Anything up to 750 Words (no minimum).
How enter: Either provide a link in the comments, or post the entire story in the comments.
Deadline: I will post a new one every Wednesday, but if you're inspired by a previous weeks, go ahead and write for it.
Genre/Theme: All/Any - completely open. It doesn't even have to refer to the picture.
No horror this week. Only mushy stuff. 684 words.
Searching for Flowers
It had been years since Jason last walked down the beach. It was where he'd met Alicia. That was all so long ago, it seemed. She was gone forever now, taken from life too soon. The shore was still beautiful, though not as inviting as he remembered. The once-invigorating fragrance of salt air now only induced shadowy, melancholy visions.
At his feet, lodged in the sandy soil next to a half-buried piece of driftwood, a flower sprouted. How many times had he picked these for Alicia? How many silly little bouquets had he made? He reached down and pulled the stem free of the tough roots. It was only a weed, though an attractive one.
"That's pretty."
It was a tiny voice he heard, so small he wasn't sure it was real. He turned slightly in its direction to find a girl, a very young child, in truth, standing next to him. She had a wide smile on her face.
Jason attempted a smile, though with little enthusiasm. "Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?"
The girl remained quiet, alternately grinning and biting her lip, shyly avoiding eye contact. Jason held the flower out and said, "Here." She snatched it from his hand, then ran off giggling.
He quickly disappeared back into his thoughts, his mind entranced by the rhythmic waves and gentle breezes. What, if anything, was left for him here?
"That was very kind of you."
The sound startled him. A young woman stood only a few feet away. He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't noticed. Her long, dark hair drifted across her face from the sea breeze, though her eyes seemed to pierce through its gossamer veil as if they had a light of their own. She was smiling, though she eventually looked away. He realized he'd been staring at her for an uncomfortably long time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you like that," she said.
"I—I didn't know anyone was there."
"I know. I was trying to catch up with Sarah. She ran off ahead of me. I hope she didn't bother you."
"Oh, uh, no, not at all. Your daughter?"
"Yes. She can be a handful at times. The two of us moved here last week from back east. Thought we go exploring today. By the way, I'm Kristen."
"I'm..." His voice drifted away as he studied the soft contours of her face. "Jason," he finally exclaimed, as if shocked by some great revelation. "My name—it's Jason."
She tried not to laugh, craning her neck to check on her daughter as a cover. "Do you live nearby?"
He took a deep breath. "No, not anymore. I came by to—well, I'm not really sure. Just to see it again, I guess."
"Is this place special to you?"
Jason wasn't sure how to answer the question. It used to be. Was it still? Did he really want to bother someone else with his past? He hadn't talked much to anyone about Alicia, let alone to a woman. He didn't know what to say, even what he should say, but he did want talk about something, anything. He hadn’t felt that way in ages. There was life in the way her eyes seemed to dance, glancing at him only briefly before looking away.
"There's a cove not far past the point here." He knew he was staring again. "I used to go there a lot. It's really beautiful."
"Oh?"
"If you'd like to see I could..."
She turned away, grinning, he noticed, exactly like her daughter.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume."
"That's alright." She looked directly at him this time. "I'd love to see it."
They walked along the beach together as Sarah scampered from shell to stone, the tiny flower firmly clenched in her fist. When he could divert his attention from Kristen he scanned the beach, inspecting every rock, clump of grass, and piece of wood that might provide a shelter for life. What a shame it would be, he thought, if there were no more flowers to be found.
© 2018 K. R. Smith All rights reserved
Ooo, leading her to a cove! LOL - could turn into horror! LOL Thanks for joining, it's a lovely story.
ReplyDeleteYou have a dark mind, Miranda. Which, of course, is why I look forward to your comments!
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