A Weekly Writing Challenge
Its Sunday afternoon and there's no better time to do a little creative writing--and by little, I mean 500 words or less.
And if you'd like to join me and others in our quest for fun, here are the rules:
1) Use the above two photos in your story.
2) Keep your word count 500 or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday night to link up your story.
5) Have fun, don't stress, and let those creative juices flow!
So, here goes!
John sat alone in his mother's bedroom and dreaded the task that lie ahead. He knew this day was coming for some time. This knowledge did not make the it any easier.
"Well, what's in this box, mom?" John asked the air in the room. He's spent the last three hours going through his mother's earthy possessions, things that transferred ownership as soon as the once spry sixty-two year old mother of two and grandmother of five died in the same room just over one-hundred hours earlier. "What treasures will we find next?"
He opened the shoebox, one of dozens he found in the closet, stacked like an actual inventory of shoes on shelves above the floral and pastel printed dresses and pantsuits that became her legacy. The previous six or seven boxes held some trinkets, cosmetic jewelry, a couple of undeveloped 35mm film and pennies--lot's of pennies.
This one, however was different. This one held letters. A single piece of paper sat atop the pile with a single hand-written word, John's. It came from his mother's hand. He removed the paper and the picture he saw almost split his already aching heart in two. Looking up from the box was a postcard he sent to his mother while on spring break during his junior year at college.
John made many decisions in his life, some he regretted more than others. The trip his junior year ranked as one of his worst because he'd promised to go with his mother to Hawaii that year, but changed his mind and went with his fraternity brothers instead. His mother ended up canceling her trip and John swore on his father's grave that he'd make it up to her by taking her to Hawaii himself.
He never made good on his promise--he thought he'd have more time.
He placed the postcard in the "maybe" pile of things to save and wondered what was next. He hoped whatever it was would be less impactful than the postcard. John didn't get his wish. The next item was a letter from his father, one of only a few he knew ever existed. He lifted the letter and a photo of his father fell out. He bent down and picked it up and noticed some writing on the back, this time in his father's hand.
Son--look what your mother made for me! I guess she's sick of my freezing toes touching hers when we snuggle in bed! Ha! Ha!, she says! Best of luck at camp! See you in three weeks!
John looked into the box and saw the many letters still left to investigate. He put the letter, the photo, the postcard, and the slip of paper with his name attached back in the box. He'd need more time for that one, and right now he knew he lacked the emotional bankroll to cover it.
Word Count: 484