Blue winter rose
wandering storyteller
wordcount: 365
prompt: You're sitting in your favorite room of your house, when it begins to rain. The pitterpatter of water on the roof sparks a memory.
This time I have a short little story about a lonely old lady. I hope you like it.
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A rainy day
Melony sat in her comfy chair in front of the hearth, where the fire was burning brightly. In thought, she petted her cat, Nelly, who purred happily. Above the hearth hung a picture of an elderly man. Next to it hung a picture of her children with her families, laughing brightly.
Melony stared at the fire intrigued by the flames endeavouring the wood. The heat of fire spread through the spacious living room, that was way too big for her alone.
Her children kept insisting to sell the house but, she refused to. It held too many memories to leave it behind. They lingered in the creaky wooden floor that hadn’t been properly cleaned in weeks. The long table with a thick layer of dust settled on it. The large dark oak bookcase filled to the brim with books. Some redden so many times the pages had become as brittle as her bones.
Raindrops splattered on the roof bringing her back to the days her family was still complete and her children still lived with her. As she closed her eyes, she saw her husband sit on the chair next to her reading his paper. She could smell the smoke of her husband’s pipe and the Cologne he used.
She heard the laughter of her sons playing with a train in front of the fire. The pen strokes of her oldest daughter Elsbeth as she sat at the table working on one of her drawings. The tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on the fine lines on the paper. Just like her father used to do.
The bing-bong of the ancient clock next to hearth broke the silence. The sound pulled her back to present and the shimmers of the past disappeared. The cat on her lap let out a whining miaow and leapt off her lap. Leaving her lap empty and her hands aimless.
Melony sighed as she folded her old wrinkled hands together on her lap. She glanced at the empty chair beside her. Tomorrow was her birthday and her children and grandchildren would fill up the house again, with their voices and laughter. But, her husband wouldn’t be there.
prompt: You're sitting in your favorite room of your house, when it begins to rain. The pitterpatter of water on the roof sparks a memory.
This time I have a short little story about a lonely old lady. I hope you like it.
------------
A rainy day
Melony sat in her comfy chair in front of the hearth, where the fire was burning brightly. In thought, she petted her cat, Nelly, who purred happily. Above the hearth hung a picture of an elderly man. Next to it hung a picture of her children with her families, laughing brightly.
Melony stared at the fire intrigued by the flames endeavouring the wood. The heat of fire spread through the spacious living room, that was way too big for her alone.
Her children kept insisting to sell the house but, she refused to. It held too many memories to leave it behind. They lingered in the creaky wooden floor that hadn’t been properly cleaned in weeks. The long table with a thick layer of dust settled on it. The large dark oak bookcase filled to the brim with books. Some redden so many times the pages had become as brittle as her bones.
Raindrops splattered on the roof bringing her back to the days her family was still complete and her children still lived with her. As she closed her eyes, she saw her husband sit on the chair next to her reading his paper. She could smell the smoke of her husband’s pipe and the Cologne he used.
She heard the laughter of her sons playing with a train in front of the fire. The pen strokes of her oldest daughter Elsbeth as she sat at the table working on one of her drawings. The tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on the fine lines on the paper. Just like her father used to do.
The bing-bong of the ancient clock next to hearth broke the silence. The sound pulled her back to present and the shimmers of the past disappeared. The cat on her lap let out a whining miaow and leapt off her lap. Leaving her lap empty and her hands aimless.
Melony sighed as she folded her old wrinkled hands together on her lap. She glanced at the empty chair beside her. Tomorrow was her birthday and her children and grandchildren would fill up the house again, with their voices and laughter. But, her husband wouldn’t be there.
