Friday May 11th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the widow/widower.

Busy, busy day. Heading to our first farmers market of the year tomorrow in Penticton, so lots of preparation to be done. I'm flying solo this weekend, as Kat is stuck in an online class. She'll be there with me next Saturday though, along with a by then 15 week old baby in her belly.

If you'd like to read the story that inspired my writing yesterday, it can be found here. Shandi shared the start last night but I haven't had time to read the rest yet. But I definitely will, as I am hooked.

Mine:

Alone at the kitchen table, Betty toyed with her glass of wine, spinning it around and around. The house was quiet, much quieter than she was used to. She found it unsettling, though if asked she wouldn't have been able to say why.

Understanding that particular feeling would have required acknowledging Nathan's death.

5 Comments:

Greg said...

Good luck with the market! i wonder how you'll feel this time next year when you're bringing the baby with you to the market and trying to remember not to sell it along with the cabbages?
Shandi's story is quite something! I really enjoyed reading that.
A very simple four lines today that still tell a story very neatly. Nice work :)

The widow
Black was the traditional colours for widows but there was a shortage of black dye at the moment due to the war. Marlene shrugged, tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, and decided that she'd wear blue instead. The life insurance policy had confirmed it would be paying out, and Vivienne Westwood had some fantastic new lines out. Marcus would have hated the very idea, but that was most of the reasons he was dead now....

Heather Banschbach said...

Marc- Your piece is very bitter-sweet today.

I hope your market went well! I attended my first one of the year as well, although from the other side of the table. Lots of tomatoes, rhubarb, lettuce, onions, flowers and various meats. It's Wisconsin so there were plenty of cheese curds and baked goods as well. We managed to pick up our seedlings... at least most of the ones we wanted.
-----
Louis had dreaded the day that John would leave her for the promises of heaven. She had painstakingly worked to keep him on the Earth, leaving his side only when she had no choice. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she got up and went to the bathroom. It was the doctor who had stopped by to check on John’s vitals and explained to him about the heart attack and that he was now a widower.

Marc said...

Greg - I'm looking forward to having the baby with us at the market, though I plan on being very firm on the 'priceless' price tag for him or her.

Love the detail about black dye shortage, that's very clever.

Heather - ah yes, I remember you talking about your market before. Still sounds pretty awesome.

That's a sneaky twist at the end there; very nicely done.

Morrigan Aoife said...

I got my prompt in the AM but was unable to get back on to post it..
So pardon my lateness.
<>

Stella De Marco just couldn't let go. She started every conversation with “When my Cosmo was alive ...”, “If Cosmo were here ...” and even “I remember when Cosmo and I...” Then misty eyed she would look off into the distance recalling a memory of her past. Cosmo has been her life and she had been his for 62 years. They spent every moment together as husband and wife and the best of friends.

Now he was gone and she was alone. When she woke each morning the right side of the king size bed they once shared remained untouched. At every meal she sat across from an unused place setting and every evening as she sat in her old recliner she’d find herself looking over at its empty twin. It was almost too much to bear.

The people who visited tried their best to ease her mind. They assured her that the emptiness would dissipate over time, but that was just something people said to make themselves feel better about death. Stella doubted they could understand how she was feeling; none of them has experienced life like she did. Defiantly, she resigned herself to a single thought. I will not let this stand! She couldn’t continue on like this, it was time to do something!

Marc said...

Morrigan - pardoned, most assuredly :)

That's a very authentic, relatable piece. Glad you went with an empowering ending, as you easily could have chosen otherwise.