Strange meeting
  

STRANGE MEETING

 

Walking through the shadows where the dark, grey tree’s overcast the prettier blooms down below that brighten the resting place of her loved one.  The light breeze lightly moves the flowers, swaying them to and fro, as if they were dancing and having a conversation. You can imagine them saying.

 “Hello Ms Rose.”

 “Hello Ms Tulip.”

“Did you get any soil today?”

“Ms Freesia is all loved up today.”

Motioned actions are exchanged as their leafy limbs shack and hug one another. 

 

Up against the protector of trees is a blanket of sage green hair, that covers his torso, branching out to the highest heights.  His palms sweat from the dew from the rain that fell earlier that day.  He shivers draping pellets far and wide.

 

As she gets nearer to the row of solders, stonily on guard, she feels a presence but does not turn around.  Head held up straight looking ahead and planting her feet firmly on the ground she keeps a steady pace.  In one hand she holds a watering can and in the other she returns to her pocket, humming a tune.  The shadowy light that is given off through the shapes up above doesn’t help her mind thinking of all sorts.  She holds on tight to the cylinder ready to pounce when finally she reaches Mamma Loo’s plot of land.

 

Eyes weeping with remembrance of the many times they would visit the space and have picnics.  Dada Loo was just as eccentric as her, but that’s what made them so lovable to them all.  They did everything together so was sad but fitting that they died together.  The final day came to say goodbye and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

 

A sudden movement was made six flowerbeds to the right.  She called out, “anyone there, show yourself, come out into the light so I can see you?”

 

An endless wind got behind her legs pushing her; she repeated her plea, “Come from behind that tree, why are you hiding there?”

 

A murmured answer came from the black hole, “I won’t hurt you; I just wish to sit here quietly.”   

 

“Then show yourself.  You have the advantage over me.”

 

The moon at half mask added with the one bulb lamppost aided to the visual artificial light, which they could only rely on at this witching hour.  A shuffling and crawling motion then an upright outline was seen.  She couldn’t make out the gender as yet, and then the shape stopped and said.

 

“I am embarrassed, please can I stay here.”

 

The boomerang of wind brought back a fetid aroma, and with that she says, “I do not care about appearances, I just want to know who I share this private time with?

 

The picture unravels as the body swaggers nearer.  The hair is shoved up in a once light coloured hat that is now soil colour.  His eyes are small, squinting trying to adjust to the light.  The orange, yellow and grey mixture made up the pigment of his face and his chin had a lawn of hair. 

 

Familiarity awash, she says,” Do I know you?”

 

“Carol its Richard.”

 

“I used to know a Richard but he left saying he has left behind bad rubbish.”

 

 

By

Suzette      

 

 

 

 

    


Comments:
 
aussiedee   aussiedee wrote
on 7/23/2008 5:49:16 AM
You have a wonderful mind, and I really enjoy the way it leads. I admire you for your poetry and the way you express yourself.

StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 7/8/2008 1:48:07 AM
Again, the mix of nature with the ordinary. I see a gifted imagination that can only get better.

penname   penname wrote
on 7/7/2008 5:10:11 PM
i also like the double entendre title as well. it's perfect!

penname   penname wrote
on 7/7/2008 5:09:26 PM
i really liked this. and I'm glad to see you posting your work. thanks for sharing it. one awkard line for me was "boomerang of wind." However, the rest of your imagery and descriptions were great. I love the story, the images, the tone, and the dialogue.

Tiny
Short Story
Suspense
writing Tiny

To all fellow prose writers, poem builders, novelists etc, be as critical as you like
about my pieces of work. I welcome all views as this is how I question the question
and think outside my own comfort zone.

Enjoy
S
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Synopsis
A first draft of a task that was given to the class.
A Word from the Writer
Three different assignments were brought together to make one. This is how I started. Needs more work.
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