Wreckage

There was recently a rather large storm in my area, which took out a lot of trees, and a few houses, which is what inspired this weeks response to the Friday Picture Prompt Challenge on the Writer’s Mess. That and apparently a preoccupation about getting what you deserve, that will return again later in the week. This is the story of a woman whose life has fallen apart, but in the end things might not be quite so bad as she thought.


She sat in the car, in the pouring rain, looked out at the remains of her house and started to laugh. Wasn’t just the perfect representation of her life right now?

Her husband of 15 years had left her, having knocked up the secretary, and he had the gall to blame her for it.

He had tried to claim infidelity on her part, and that was what had hit her the hardest. She had always thought that he understood what he was signing up for when he married an openly ace woman, but it turned out he was just waiting for her to change her mind.

When she hadn’t, he assumed that she she was seeing someone else, and that it was only fair that he get his own action. He said he wanted kids that were actually his, and not her lover, and the blows kept raining down.

He said he knew that she would want kids eventually, and had completely ignored her warnings that she had no intention of reproducing. She had finished out the day staring across the room at a stranger, and let him win.

She signed away the house, she got her stuff, some money, and her dahlia’s from the front garden. As she sat there staring at the wreckage from the storm, that used to be their house, she couldn’t help but laugh.

The only thing untouched, her front garden, where a single red dahlia bloomed. It seemed she had won after all.

In Good Company

This is for The Writer’s Mess Weekly Friday Picture Prompt Challenge, based on the picture below, and that the last prompt for the The Writer’s Mess Poetic June, where we are doing Haiku poetry. Oh, and of course Pride Month!


Kennedy sat on the bus that was taking her from the only home she had ever known, and while she should be anxious, all she felt was relief.

She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be a lawyer, but she knew that she had to get out of that town, and a full ride for the pre-law program on the other side of the country was her best chance of leaving.

She could never be herself back in that place, it was too small, too stifling, and there were too many eyes watching her every move, preventing her from being who she wanted, no who she needed to be.

Twelve hours later she had arrived, stepping off the bus with a smile, as she looked up at the glowing sign that let her know that she had made the right choice.

Inspired she pulled a notebook from her bag, and jotted down the poem that came to mind, the first in this place, but definitely not the last.

A light in the dark

Seven colors shining bright

You are not alone

Acceptance

The next installment in The Writer’s Mess Celebration Event is on….Festivals. I have chosen the prompt “Write about a person going to a festival alone.” and am using a pride event as my festival of choice. This is a 100 word piece, which I admit I do struggle with, but this was me taking a shot at it.


Georgia was overwhelmed by the shear color of it.  Everywhere she turned was rainbows and flags, and in this place her multi-tones of brown made her stand out instead of fit in. She flinched with each flash, and reassured herself that nobody would know that she was here.  After years of pining she’d made it, and hope bloomed within her chest.  Tomorrow she would have to go back into that closet until she left home, but these were her people. She hit up a vendor and spent the rest of the day wearing a rainbow cape and a huge smile.

Happy Little Rainbow

So this is another Microfiction Monday posting, based on the image above…Well not actually on the image above, I got the image to match the idea I had that inspired the story. But basically its the relationship between a girl and a rainbow shirt.


The rainbow shirt had been an impulse buy. When it arrived, she furtively hid the package from her parents, and jammed it in the back of her closet. She cringed a little at the irony.  When she finally opened it, it was the middle of the night, her door locked, and her desk chair jammed under it.  

It was a black shirt with a small rainbow, with a  little smiling cloud at the end. The whole design fit on the shirt pocket. It didn’t even really have to mean anything, she thought, as she smiled uncertainly at her reflection. She stood there, arms wrapped around her stomach, until a noise in the hallway had her pulling the shirt over her head in a single hurried motion.  Back in the closet it went, and where it stayed for two long years.

She packed it away in a box without really ever looking at it. When she unpacked in her dorm, it went back in the closet. It was almost a year later, at the end of her second semester that she pulled it out again.

This time she tried it on and smiled broadly. She felt self-conscious at first, but as she reached the crowds of people barely dressed, and painted with rainbows something within her unfurled. She was not alone.