After staring at this picture for awhile a story finally came to mind. Sorry, it turned a bit bleak in the end. As always, thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting our Friday Fictioneers’ party each week, and thanks to my fellow attnedees for reading and leaving comments.
Photo by Marie Gail Stratford
Just like the yarn in Grandma’s weaving basket, the threads of Lilliana’s life were all tangled up.
Used to be she knew precisely where she was headed and what waited at the end.
Used to be nothing, nothing could get in her way.
Yeah, used to be.
But now she couldn’t see beyond the thin, grey line of her new life.
Sure, people tried to help, said reassuring words, promised the moon.
She listened, straight-backed and graceful.
Even smiled – sometimes.
But Lilliana knew, absolutely, that women without feet were never asked to join the ballet.
Up From the Ashes 