Salvaging the Masterpiece – Friday Fictioners.

Nancy was an artist and a dreamer. After visiting Monet’s garden, she was determined to transform her slimy, mosquito-infested pond into a masterpiece. Harry Hemsworth, reputedly a cousin of the legendary Thor, was doing the work, and naturally Nancy had to supervise.

Finally, the first lily had opened, and her art class was coming in the morning. The cake was just out of the oven, when her grandson burst through the backdoor clutching her precious lily: “Nanna, I brought you a flower.”

Nancy was dying inside, but tried to smile. Hopefully, Harry could sticky tape it back on.

98 words.

….

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Nothing Said…Flash Fiction.

“You two look cosy,” Jess smiled, almost spilling champagne over her best friend and her ex-lover. They weren’t holding hands. Yet, she could sense that unmistakable sizzle. Almost convulsing, Jess said nothing. She kept her love life private.

Ouch! That Summer with Will stung like a bee. He’d seen straight through her with those damned blue eyes. Didn’t even need his lens.

That’s why she ran. By then, there was no turning back.

She was too broken.

The two people she loved the most and knew the best. Yet, she kept zipped.

She couldn’t tell him about their son.

This has been written in response to Charli Mills weekly Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch.

December 29, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a cozy story. What is it to be cozy, to experience Danish hygge? It doesn’t need to be culture-specific, but it can be an interesting point of comparison or contrast. A character might long to feel cozy, or you might describe the perfect cozy scene. It may or may not include Prosecco..

Respond by January 3, 2017 to be included in the compilation (published January 4). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

xx Rowena

Photo: Rowena Curtin

 

No Regrets?

 

Mango dripping from our lips,

drowning in its sweet juicy syrup,

our souls kissed.

We were one.

 

Skins peeled off,

diving into the restless surf,

we plunged deep…sooo deep!

I have always known you.

 

Steam was rising.

Kept rising,

disappearing,

evaporating into the night.

I thought you knew.

 

But you never said a word.

Neither did I.

Just two friends

forever fumbling

around in the dark.

 

No regrets?

 

Rowena   5/3/2016.

I swear if it wasn’t for countless moments like this throughout history, so much literature, art and music simply wouldn’t exist. Just think of Keats and La Belle Dame Sans Merci

They say so often that youth is wasted on the young and now when I look back, I see so much self-doubt, crippling anxiety, paralysis. I especially remember being absolutely crippled on the dance floor. Sure, I wasn’t the most coordinated person but dance is about liberating your soul and expressing and sharing your spirit…not conforming to some inhibited social expectation.  Thankfully, I finally found my groove and left that inhibited shell behind and found my wings. Isn’t that such a beautiful thing?!!

This poem is pure fiction. Our son has to write 4 Haikus about the seasons and we were going through talking about each season, trying to pluck out its essence. Not just in the more conventional sense with Autumn leaves, snow and budding Spring. We live on the fringes of Sydney where all those images and symbols don’t apply. Seasonal changes here are much more subtle. Our clothes changes and the contours of the beach change but nothing dramatic…aside from pretty intense thunder storms but I think they can happen any time of year.

Anyway, feasting on mangoes is such a part of my Australian Summers. Not only eating the fruit itself but even licking my fingers and savouring the sweet juice. Hmm…heaven!

I’m sure mangoes and Summer passion go hand in hand and yet inhibition strikes at its core.

No doubt, we’ve all been there.

Any regrets?

xx Rowena