Thank you to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers! This is definitely one where I looked very, very closely at the picture and let my imagination run wild.
Kid gloves. Irony. Everyone around me dons them.
Instead of being the microscope specimen under their hovering visages, worried eyes, voices decibels shy of brittle, I meditate over the milkweed that has gone to seed. The cottony spindles undulate. Mesmerized, I draw nearer. Bodies writhing, humans, not plant seeds.
The one in center, head bowed: My Nathan. He alone is immobile. The mouths of the others are open, wailing to the sun.
I glance toward the window where my family watches.
How do I tell them that my husband, children, have been reborn? A sharp wind carries them away.
14 thoughts on “Seeds”
What an interesting way of seeing humans in flowers! It sounds as if she is in mourning, and perhaps dealing with it in her own way.
Yes, she’s definitely in mourning, you are right. Thank you so much for reading!
Lovely wordcraft in this, Sascha, and an inventive vision that can be read on more than one level. I couldn’t ask for more from a story
Thank you so much, Neil! 🙂
Poignant and heart twisting. Well crafted and tender, her grief is tangible and the way she handles it, creative. Good one.
Thank you so much, Rochelle! 🙂
Expertly done Sascha.
Thank you so much, Iain! 🙂
Every word is meaningful. Beautifully written.
Thank you so much Linda!
What an astonishing narrative. The grieving mother and wife seems to receive an assurance of the continuity of the lives of her husband and children, albeit a very ambivalent one with little consolation. Excellent writing, Sascha.
Wow. Thank you so much, Penny! 🙂 I think you’ve made my day.
There is beauty in the rebirth, but still fresh pain in the loss.
Such tragic depths. A huge loss and yet she really isn’t coping, is lost to those who love her. Very sad, Sascha