Weekly Writing Challenge; Traces


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/11/weekly-writing-challenge-traces/

#DP Challenge

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.southern belle 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.candy canes

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.drawing room

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.

evergreenflowers

Live Your Life


She sat on the bus bench. She wasn’t going anywhere. Grandma just liked watching the people come and go. Talking to the young crowd, handing out cookies she had baked the night before. It didn’t take long at all before this bus stop was a popular place to look forward to.

There is such a big generation gap between the young and old. Values are different, a faster paced world is what we live in today. So it is no wonder that the few minutes while waiting for their bus to arrive, it was a breath of fresh air to have someone to chat with who seemed to care.

I can see my own self in this picture I painted. I could be the grandma on the bench. Handing out cookies to the people. Getting old is not really that golden era we hear about. It may be if you still have your long-standing mate by your side, I guess.

But when fate comes and wipes half your slate a way, you suddenly realize it is quiet when you get up and it is hushed when you lay your head down at night. Silence is golden when you live a hectic life, or raising the busy family, but what happens when the kids grow up and move out?

Who is going to fill that void? I will probably be one of those bell ringers at Christmas time just so I can show others that there are still smiles in the world. Maybe I will be the Wal-Mart greeter lady.

I can sit on my stool and make sure to welcome you in to the store, but what I am actually trying to show you is that age is only a number. We are born with one heart, a set of feelings, and we each feel in the same way.

We want joy and happiness. We want to feel we belong some where in this world. It just makes life nicer. An added touch when you are running late for work. Or your spouse and you had a disagreement on the way out the door this morning.

Yes, I will always be trying to show the younger generation that life is still good. They need it more now than ever as families split and people become more engrossed in themselves.

What do you envision doing when you get in your prime of life? Retired sitting on the beach some where? Raising maybe your grandchildren? Will you be taking care of a family member? Or will you still be reaching out to others in any way you can, even if it means sitting at the bus bench handing out cookies, to people you know.

bus stop

Daily Prompt; Intense


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/05/daily-prompt-intense/, DP, Daily Post

Describe the last time you were surprised by the intensity of a feeling you had about something, or were surprised at how strongly you reacted to something you thought wouldn’t be a big deal.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us INTENSE.

I didn’t used to be weird about foods. I ate what I fixed and I ate what was served. But things change, people are hurried in the manufacturing areas, and some people just are sickos.

With Mad Cow Disease it started with me. I began checking labels better. I don’t buy just any meat because of price. Then there were other things, sick pigs, bad poultry, canned foods that caused stomach aches and vomiting. Some strange chemicals in our containers and additives that cause cancer.

Calgon! Take me a way from this crap! Now I am a food fetish. I mainly have to prepare what I eat. If I eat out, I try to go to better places. My grocery shopping turned from hurry and get the hell out of the packed store, to I think I will take my time today and notice what I am putting into my gut.

Tonight on Facebook I was just sifting through the junk that filters through. You know, silly pictures, funny photos and then I saw it. Oh my gosh, I thought instantly to the hundreds of cookies that I have eaten in my life. Dunked in milk, eaten without tearing them apart and eating the filling first.

When I saw this I almost vomited at what I may have consumed. Now I suppose I will have to bake my own cookies.cookie, spider

Please, beware, tear that Oreo apart. Oh gross. I can clean poop, see blood, but when it comes to bugs, insects, chemicals, bad crap going in my gut, I think I will faint.

Quick, get me the smelling salts.

 

Thanksgiving


Thanksgiving

Mom and Dad always said

Don’t eat much breakfast or you’ll be sad

You’ll miss out on turkey and taters too

Deviled eggs and plenty of food

So a piece of peanut butter toast

A glass of juice and water at most

Our tummies were growling we could hear

Please let us get there oh father dear

I walk in and oh, the smell of food

Everything looks so yummy and good

Mom fills my plate and also my glass

I take a nice seat and sit on my ___

Oh this was worth starvation today

For going to Grandma’s is the only way

Tummy all full I can hardly walk

Afraid I’ll puke if I begin to talk

I find my way to the guest bedroom

I lay on the bed and very soon

My eyes are heavy and then they close

This is the way Thanksgivings go.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

11/06/2013

thanksgiving table