Tag: death

Flash Fiction, History, tutto e niente

Dearest John

Tina Stewart Brakebill

May 30, 1893

Dearest John.

It finally arrived. I was scared that it wouldn’t get here in time for your birthday but it came on the train yesterday. Daddy will be angry but there’s nothing he can do about it now. When I saw our names together I fell to my knees. I love you so much. We talked so much about leaving this place. Being together. Going someplace where daddy couldn’t stop us. Then you left me. Alone. But daddy can’t stop us now. In death, we can be connected forever.

Till tomorrow my love.  

Always Your Cora

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This 99 words of completely unsubstantiated fiction (based on a real headstone) was written for Carrot Ranch’s FF challenge.

If you haven’t done so, check them out. Twas fun! Especially for this historian who loves to write about long-dead women!

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

The Breakwater

Tina Stewart Brakebill

She sat on the breakwater and hoped the sound of the waves would soothe her. His words hadn’t. “In between the clover and the dampened earth.” That’s how the minister described it. Sounded poetic. Nicer than “here’s where we buried her body.” But that was reality. Ma was dead. And no pretty words were going to change that.  

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PHOTO CREDITS TO MY FAVORITE HUSBAND

I’ve been a bit morbid lately. Perhaps I’m feeling my own mortality. Or maybe it’s the side effect of living in Trump’s world. But thankfully my own mum is alive and well, so this really is fiction. Therefore much thanks for the inspiration to the following:

Sammi Scribbles Weekend Prompt which was to use the word “breakwater” in exactly 58 words (accomplished!)

And to Putting My Feet in the Dirt for the beautiful phrase “in between the clover and the dampened earth.”

And to Linda’s SoCS challenge using the word or partial word of “ma.”

Visit their sites if you haven’t. They are FAB!

 

 

 

 

 

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Their Home

Tina Stewart Brakebill

She sat at the edge of the stream and stared at the house. Their home.

The tumbling water reminded her of a song. She could hear the melody in her head. But the words just wouldn’t come. It’s not fair. Songs are not her department. TV shows and historical facts. But not songs. That’s his lane.

He’s supposed to be here. He would know.

But he’s no longer here. Or there. In that house that was their home.

For just a moment she was overwhelmed by anger. Then frustration. But that stupid song would have to wait.

It was time.

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Photo Credit to Brian Brakebill (who thankfully is still very much with me and continues to inspire me with his photos) 

Inspired by and written for Friday Fictioners and the PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson with some further inspiration from Reena’s Exploration Challenge (home) and Fandango’s FOWC (melody) and Your Daily Word Prompt (overwhelm)