Posts Tagged ‘silence’

Well, isn’t this desk a fine mess? It almost makes me feel like cleaning mine – almost. Instead, I wrote this 100-word story about it. Thanks, Rochelle, for posting yet another picture to make the Friday Fictioneer clan put fingertips to keyboards.

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Sheldon

Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Timothy ripped the clock from the wall, pulled the plug on the refrigerator, threw his computer out the window just to quiet its hum. No sound should remind him of his old life. Still, his heart pounded so violently, blood rushed in his ears – like the echo of ocean waves caught inside a nautilus shell. That’s what Angie would have said. But Angie, his heart of hearts was gone. Absolutely nothing mattered.
“Daddy?”
Timothy turned from the window. And there, standing with her stuffed penguin clutched in one hand was little Beatrice. He knelt and opened his arms.

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My husband’s family tells stories about ailments with unfathomable enthusiasm. Colonoscopies, arthritis, trigger toe, prostate cancer and warts – nothing is too private to pass down the sister-brother telegraph line relaying maladies both large and small.
Fifteen years ago my mom had a cancerous breast removed and didn’t tell my sisters and me until a year, maybe two, later. For a month our dad nursed her. He alone monitored the drain tubes, fed her, and delivered medication while we daughters continued blithely on with our lives – oblivious to her discomfort. Her explanation? “I didn’t want to bother you.”
And that is what our family does. We keep ailments to ourselves.
On the other hand, my husband’s family laughs uproariously when they’re together, they play games and tease, remember the old days and look to the future. My family eats an entire dinner – including dessert – not speaking a word. That’s not to say we don’t have fun, we do. Out on the back porch Mom and Dad discuss books, the news, and who drove down the alley and took the broken stove Mr. Jenkins tossed out on Monday. On the front porch Dad points to the “fairy rings” in the lawn and asks Mom if they were there yesterday.
Of course, three hours may pass between these conversations.
In silence.
So, it must be true. Opposites attract.