Weekly Writing Challenge; Traces
Weekly Writing Challenge; Traces
Using the story behind the photo above as a jumping off point for this week’s writing challenge, we want you to talk about leaving your mark. For the fiction-minded, fill in the mystery behind this photograph. Who were these flowers left for? Was there a message included? Is there a mysterious reason why these flowers are covered in dust, but still appear so young?
Every night after the lights went low, busy fairies came alive. Bustling through the cemetery. Oh there was plenty to do. Everything was groomed but one potted plant. There was trimming of weeds, picking dead blooms, applying fresh fertilizer. Each night the glow of their shiny wands made a person feel like they were seeing the reflections of twinkling stars falling to the earth.
There were many fairies. It all started in the year of 1850 when the lady of the southern plantation took ill. Annabelle had been a beautiful lady. She was not only the wife of a rich husband but her heart was bigger than any pile of gold.
She had many slaves that worked for her. In fact this was one plantation where slaves begged for her attention so they may earn a chance to work inside for her.
While her husband was attending to business, Annabelle was helping where she saw fit.
She helped teach young mothers how to bathe their new babies. She mended holes in clothing for the farm hands. At the holidays she made each of them special plates of food and each of the children could count on getting a present of their very own.
When one of the children became ill she fetched him and brought him to the main house. Here the child was nursed back to health if at all possible.
But one day Annabelle felt ill. The house was quiet. She hadn’t been seen any where outside the house.
Buzzing went through the slave quarters as questions remained with no answers. That night Annabelle’s husband had come home.
He had a rough day. Sales were low. He was hungry and tired. He needed someone to talk to. He went straight to the drawing-room where he was hoping she would be.
The room was silent. He went through the rooms looking in the sleeping quarters last.
There lay Annabelle ghostly white. He went to her and sat on the side of the bed. Speaking to her he received no response. He felt her forehead with the back of his palm.
She was burning up. He covered her gently and quickly exited their room and dashed out the main door. Hopping on his horse he took off for the five mile ride to the doctor’s office. Beating on the door for what seemed minutes, the doctor opened it.
Explaining the symptoms he observed the doctor picked up his satchel and hat and readied his horse. The two rode hard back to the main house. Once inside the doctor performed an examination.
Nodding for her husband to follow him out into the hall, the doctor explained that his wife had little time. She had come down with the fever and there was no cure.
Her husband’s eyes filled with tears as he walked the doctor to the front door. Shaking his hand he watched until he could no longer see the horse and rider.
He went directly to the slave quarters. He ordered them to gather round. He explained his wife’s condition. He told them this was very contagious, but he needed the help. Which ones would be able to come to the main house and be of service?
Several of the ladies raised their hands in the air. He nodded at each one and they got their belongings and followed him back. For eight days the fever remained. Anabelle grew weaker and paler. Food was offered but not taken. Visitors stayed a way for fear of the sickness getting a hold of them.
On the eighth day Anabelle died. Her faithful followers remained behind to tend to her and the funeral but one by one each passed also.
Ever since the last one passed, the flowers that were left by Annabelle’s grieving husband had remained untouched on her grave. The fairies which were once her helpers in distress watched over her as she had once done for them.
To this day if you visit the old cemetery, and you sit quietly in the night, you can see the reflection of the twinkling stars falling to the earth.
Put together a musical playlist of songs that describe your life, including what you hope your future entails.
Kindergarten; Me and little Timmy sitting inside the big plastic doll house together.
Beatles, I want to hold your hand/http://youtu.be/iim6s8Ea_bE
Ten years old, and my half-sister was born.
You don’t love me anymore, Eddie Rabbit/http://youtu.be/8qDCydGZXWE
Thirteen years old and I was having my first serious crush.
I think I love you, Partridge Family/http://youtu.be/wJYSu2OVCGM
Eighteen years old, I was proposed to.
I think I want to marry you, Glee; Marry You/http://youtu.be/6m0m2K3Pu5I
My first child, a beautiful baby girl, 21 inches long, 8 pounds 13 ounces.
My little girl, Tim McGraw/http://youtu.be/9I5UV4VWCSk
In my thirties I wanted a divorce.
DIVORCE, Tammy Wynette/http://youtu.be/i2o9-jmtNoU
In my forties, my mother passed away.
In my fifties my daddy died.
Daddy I miss you, Heaven 911/http://youtu.be/cW493uXzUP4
In my fifties, I started taking care of my brother.
He Ain’t heavy, he’s my brother, Neil Diamond/http://youtu.be/usZtSl8mX08
Today, I am rediscovering myself and I am a writer of short stories.
Finding my way back, Lee Ann Womack/http://youtu.be/TJKJ39OZr8w
Thank-you for sharing my life with me.
There was a small child’s bible that I was given on my tenth birthday, and I used to look at all the pictures in it more than actually read it at that age. There was always this one picture that stood out in my mind, and it was the one where Jesus was kneeling, looking up to the heavenly father praying.
I found myself reliving that picture this morning as soon as my eyes were opened, before I even thought about climbing out of bed to make my pot of coffee. I made the bed and got Al’s medications ready for his breakfast, and poured his milk and orange juice in his two-handled cups.
I found myself crying inside. I could feel the internal shivers weeping from the sadness over flowing from the heart. As I walked through the kitchen attending to the needs of my brother, I heard my soul crying out to the Lord, please don’t leave me now. Please keep your promise that you will not let me have more than I can deal with.
As I am sitting here letting my secrets of my heart seep out for your eyes to read, I say a prayer for everyone who lives on this earth, that they also, do not suffer more than need be. The news at the doctor’s office yesterday, is slowly starting to sink in. The brain has a unique way of taking small bites of information and chewing them up slowly, as to not go into over load.
I see my daddy’s eyes all over again, and although my right mind knows that there is no ending date for my brother, it is very easy to refer from the one who passed to the one who is sick.
There are no tears this morning, and there were none shed last night. I am not sure why I have so much trouble crying anymore. There has only been a couple of times, where my emotions took over me and the floods of my soul came pouring out, covering my face with moisture. For some unknown reason, not crying can help me pretend that everything is alright. I can go forth one more day, and then one more day. I believe that God holds my hand, like my daddy did when he would get up in the mornings, and he would lift me out of my crib and take my hand, and we would walk down the long stair case to the kitchen. I can see my heavenly father doing this for me right now. I can feel his strength wrapping me in a cocoon, and he is lying his hands on me, telling me, my child, everything is going to be alright. I am preparing a better place for your brother, and at the perfect time, he will be ready when I call out to him.
My heavenly father, I want to thank you for giving me the best life that you have given me so far. Thank-you for allowing me the chance to have wonderful parents, and for having beautiful children. I want to give thanks to you, Lord, for giving me the opportunity to care for my father the entire year while he suffered with his bone cancer, and now you bless me once again, by letting me care for another family member. Help me to retain all of my memories, so that when this road comes to a stop, I can go back in my mind, and smile at all the wonderful things that you blessed Al and me with.
Suffer my little children, so that you may come unto me. Through our suffering here on earth, you are making a place for us in your kingdom. I praise your name, and although I do not understand your reasons, I will keep trusting you Lord. Amen.