Unbound

Black doesn’t suit her for she craves fuschia, amber, mauve, and cyan.
Peacock feathers and shiny gold beads are the things she needs
yes, needs to weave through her vibrant red hair.
Not this dark, veiled hat that covers her curls and hides her striking blue eyes.

But funerals demand black, scream for tears.
For one day, she’ll provide both.
A trip to Goodwill, menthol smeared beneath her eyes.
Sure, she can be the grieving widow for a day,
smile over tuna casserole and peach pie.

All she has ever wanted is everything he owned.
And, oh yes, now she has it.

Landmine

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.

An InLinkz Link-up

https://static.inlinkz.com/cs2.js

The Best Relative Ever

Today Pegman transported us to Kanchanaburi, Thailand. Wouldn’t it be a fun place to visit in person?

Uncle Chai Son strung all the electrical wires in our city. Every single one. He delicately balanced a wobbly wooden ladder on the hood of his van then carefully climbed to the tippy-top in his too-big straw sandals before flinging wires this way and that until a whole neighborhood was electrified.
My cousins and I watched in awe – if we weren’t in school that is. Oh, yes Uncle Chai Son was the most amazing man we knew. When we accidentally mentioned Chai Son was a relative our classmate’s eyes grew wide. “No! You’re related to him?”
Because Uncle was so amazing, government inspectors ignored the fact that the wires above the Wangthong Bungalow were a little off-center, perhaps bent? The guests had light, didn’t they? The day after the building burnt down – thank goodness only two people were slightly burned – Uncle Chai Son disappeared. Some people suggest that he, too, is now electrified.

(151-words)