Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
#445 where we’re asked to be creative in
exactly 16 words using the word ‘wait’.
Here’s where the prompt took me.
Tag: Loneliness
Never The Same
Our host Björn at dVerse Poets has asked us to write
no more than 144 words, incorporating the highlighted line
from Tomas Tranströmer’s poem “After Someone’s Death.”
The night of my husband’s funeral was the loneliest point in my life. After everyone went home, I was totally alone in the house I shared with Ned for 12 years. I don’t ever remember the house being so cold and quiet. Moonlight engulfed our bedroom yet emptiness was all around. I sat on Ned’s side of the bed and ran my hands over his pillow. It was shockingly cold and my mind drifted back to this morning in Arlington. Row upon row of neat marble headstones, Ned’s fallen brothers in arms, all the names swallowed up by the cold. Hugging his pillow tightly, I cried for the first time in three days. There was a gaping hole in my heart, in my life, and I knew I would never be the same. I don’t ever remember the house being so cold and quiet.
NAR©2024
144 Words
This is “Brothers In Arms” by Dire Straits
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
AN EMPTY EXISTENCE
Jenne has once again thrown down the gauntlet.
This is our photo prompt for The Unicorn Challenge.
There are some people who seem to have everything go their way while others lead the life of Sisyphus – the fellow who was punished in Hades for his misdeeds in life by being condemned to the eternal task of rolling a large stone to the top of a hill, only to have it roll back down every single time.
Let’s talk about Helen Chase. She’s the woman with blonde hair sitting by herself at the center table. Check out her posture. That is not a look of relaxation; it’s total defeat.
Helen was a loner and prepared to lead the life of a spinster; then she met a pharmaceutical salesman named Douglas who swept her off her feet. They married but life with her new husband was choppy at best. Helen dreamed the dreams of new brides; Douglas wanted nothing more than a house-cleaning broodmare. Helen failed miserably at both.
Today is her 50th birthday and she’s celebrating alone, divorce proceedings having been finalized. No husband, no children. An empty existence.
Little does she know the man to the left wearing a black shirt and holding a red napkin is desperate to meet her but lacks courage. He comes here every day just to look at her. He’s been alone since his parents died. All he ever wanted was a woman to love, one who loved him. Someone to share his life.
He willed Helen to turn around, glance his way. Helen slouched further down, irretrievably immersed in doleful self-pity.
NAR © 2023
250 Words
This is Brenda Lee performing “All Alone Am I”
TENDER LOVING CARE
“Summer Breeze. I’ll be damned! Dad loved that boat so much! How’d you end up with that old painting anyway, sis?” Jenny reached for the glass of wine her sister offered her; it had been ages since they had a chance to get together and catch up.
“Mom put it out with the trash after Dad died. She hated that boat, you know. Don’t ask me why but on an impulse I took it out of the trash when Mom couldn’t see. I never told you that story?” Missy asked Jenny, peering over the rim of her wine glass.
“Are you serious, Missy? I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that story. Did Mom ever find out about the painting?” Jenny asked Missy.
“No. She died before Sam and I bought this place. The painting’s been hanging over the fireplace since the day we moved in.”
“We sure spent a lot of time with Dad on that boat, didn’t we, Missy? Too bad Mom was never there with us.”
Missy stared at her sister. “You know, Mom would have been on the Summer Breeze with us if she didn’t get so damn seasick. I remember how she begged Dad to get an RV instead of a boat but he was adamant. ‘I’m alive on the water’, he’d say. ‘The girls and I will sail down to The Keys while you tend to the garden and write your stories. It’s a win/win for everyone!’‘ Missy imitated her father’s bombastic way of talking.
“Adamant and dismissive! He definitely showed that boat more TLC than he ever showed Mom” Jenny said, a bit of anger tinging her voice.
“I wonder if she was sad being alone so much.” Missy thought aloud and the two sisters sat quietly sipping their wine, lost in thought.
“OK, enough of this talk, Jen! It’s bumming me out! I’ve got a project I’ve been putting off for a while. How about giving me a hand?” Missy asked, refilling her sister’s glass.
Jenny laughed. “Sure! Just keep the wine coming, sis.”
“Great. Can you take the painting of the Summer Breeze off the wall? There’s a step ladder in the kitchen closet. I’ll be right back.”
Missy returned carrying some tools and a new picture frame. “Sid and I picked up this frame in Nantucket two years ago. I think it’s perfect for the Summer Breeze.”
Jenny laid the painting face down on the table and the two sisters began carefully removing it from the original frame. Once it was out of the frame, the cardboard covering the back of the painting fell away. The girls were bewildered to find nine small flat packages precisely wrapped in yellowed tissue paper stuck to the back of the painting.
“What on earth are these?” Jenny asked, clearly very curious.
“I have no idea” Missy replied. “I never even knew they were there.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Open one … but be careful! They look like they’re ready to fall apart”
Missy tentatively removed the diaphanous tissue paper from one package. Inside was an envelope with a letter enclosed. Removing the letter, she saw it was addressed to her mother. Silently she read it, her eyes widening in amazement.
“Damn it, Missy! Read it out loud!” demanded Jenny.
In a shaky voice, Missy read “My darling Beth. You just left and I’m already missing you. I long for the next time we can be together. Loving you – Philip”
The girls read all the letters, then sat in stunned silence.
Pensively Missy whispered, “Mom was having an affair. The whole time Dad left her to spend time on the Summer Breeze, she was with another man. Do you think Dad suspected?“
“No way! He only had eyes for the Summer Breeze and was oblivious to everything and everyone else” Jenny replied, somewhat shaken.
“She saved his letters, Jen! He must have been so special to her.”
“Well, I’m glad she was getting the special tender loving care she she so deserved. Good for her! What do you want to do with these letters?” Jenny asked.
“There’s only one thing to do” Missy replied, picking up the letters and walking to the fireplace. “We have to burn them. Here, let’s do this together, for Mom.”
The sisters placed the letters in the fire and watched them immediately be consumed by the flames. They smiled as one small piece flew around the fireplace, then disappeared up the chimney, heavenward.
Jenny raised her glass. “Here’s to you, Mom.”
“To Mom” Missy echoed.
NAR © 2023
Sail on over today to
At The Movies.
I’ll save you a seat!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
THE CIRCUS WAGON
Going through some old posts and I came across this one.
I don’t usually write poems but I always thought
this was pretty good;
hope you think so, too.
Rumors the Clown is coming to town.
He’ll take your frown, turn it upside down.
Saturday night at Monument Park West.
Come see the joker who’s the best of the best.
Yes, Rumors the Clown is coming to visit
So run children, run, or you surely will miss it
The circus wagon chugged through the streets
Extolling Rumors the Clown’s incredible feats.
The star of tv, the stage and the screen
Would roll into town, a sight to be seen,
This violet-haired, bumbling, zoot-suited jester,
The idol of Harold and Mary and Lester
The kids scampered home to ask mom and ask dad
“Can we go? Can we see him? We haven’t been bad.
It’s true! It’s true! We heard and we saw
Go look it up at the newspaper store!”
Nothing this special has happened before.
Rumors the Clown will be here for sure!
The next day the newspaper store was a-buzz
As people poured in to make sure it was just
As their children had told them, their faces a-glow
Like the bright flaming torches at the juggling show.
Could it be? Was it true? Were their children mistaken?
Were dreams fed to them by somebody faking?
The storekeeper shouted “You all think you’re so clever!
Stop pushing and shoving! Such discourtesy – I never!
You’re all here in my store for the very same reason –
Are the Rumors rumors true or is somebody teasing?”
The children stood round with their eyes all a-gape
When a shout rang out “Here it is, right here on page eight!”
“Make way! Let me through” the town librarian barked.
“I’ll take a close look with my assistant, Miss Lark.”
They put on their glasses and read every word.
Was the news printed here what the children had heard?
“Now quiet everyone while I read the whole story;
If you dare interrupt me you will surely be sorry!”
Come one and come all to the best show in town!
We’re speaking of course of Rumors the Clown.
At Monument Park West on Saturday night.
The most splendid performance will thrill and delight!
Rumors will juggle, ride bareback and walk the high wire
And perhaps – if you’re lucky – swallow a sword blazing with fire!
The extravaganza is free of charge to all who attend,
Sponsored by philanthropists and the hospital band
For the benefit of sick children and orphans here and there
Who desperately need fun from some people who care.
Saturday at eight – write it down and be there!
Monument Park at the west wall – that’s where!
“That’s tonight!” someone yelled and they ran home to dress
In their dandiest clothes so they’d all look their finest.
In dresses and new shoes and even a vest
They headed out laughing, not stopping to rest
They ran all the way to Monument Park West.
But when they arrived at the end of their quest
The west wall was locked, closed to all guests.
“There’s nobody here! Where’s Rumors the Clown?
The newspaper ad said the west side of town!”
And everyone cried, even mean Mr. Brown.
In his shop the printer wore a terrible frown.
He’d made a mistake – he deserves a fool’s crown
For the “WEST” – not the “EAST”– is what he wrote down.
At Monument Park East Rumors sat crying alone
The east side was empty for no one had shown.
“My days as a great clown are over and done;
It’s time to retire, go live in the clown home.”
Blowing his nose Rumors pulled out his phone.
“Bozo? It’s Rumors. And I’m so very alone.”
NAR © 2023
Originally published 2020
The Elephant's Trunk 