Better late than never? Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks, Susan, for providing the prompt!
Megan smirked when her friends spoke of being sports widows. Continue reading
It’s hot, one of those sultry steamy days in the south where the sun caresses rather than sears.
The neighbor boy ambles up the street, dressed in long dark jeans and a blue thermal jacket zipped to his throat, like a turtle ready to disappear. He smiles shyly as he passes. Like his parents and seven siblings, he won’t speak to AnneMarie unless forced, not anymore. The world has become “them” and “us.” Continue reading
Thank you to newbie Susan for undertaking Sunday Photo Fiction!
Granddad’s bucket list is going to kill me. But a promise is a promise. Personally, I think he’s also trying to cure my fear of heights brought on by his brother because he feels guilty about leaving me with him that day.
Last week we did skydiving. I think. I squeezed my eyes tight, felt my ears pop, all the while tightly tethered to a professional who knew when to open the chute. I did open my eyes just in time to get my legs under me for the landing. A win.
This week it’s air balloons in the Blue Ridge. I think this will be easier. I just have to stand there, right? And not look down.
But life isn’t fair, is it? The guy checking on the balloon is Jace, my ex-, the only man I’ve ever loved. A quick glance at Granddad, who averts his eyes and begins whistling Led Zeppelin’s “Over the Hills and Far Away,” tells me this is not an accident.
I guess it’s not only my fear of heights he’s trying to cure.
end 5/11/2018 (180 words)
It’s been awhile since I’ve visited Sunday Photo Fiction. It’s nice to be back. Thank you, Alistair!
In those days the air was combustible, ions churning, light fragmenting into auroras that blazed through night’s boundless sky, laughter sweet, gentle like soft blossom petals falling. Continue reading