PHOTO PROMPT © Erin Leary
Emmaline stroked the cat who was curled contentedly in his hammock by the window. The baby was sleeping, her son was at school, and Keith was away on business. She could see the world stretch out before her. Nothing solid as far as the eyes can see, she noted. Her hands went to her throat, it felt tight. She gasped for air. She smelled something then. Something burning. She walked unhurriedly to the kitchen where she found the pot of beans. She had forgotten it simmering on the stove and the water had boiled down. The pot was scorched.
word count: 99
Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who challenges us to think outside the box and write a story of 100 WORDS OR LESS from the given photo prompt. This week’s photo prompt provided by Erin Leary.
Constructive criticism and genuine thoughts are always appreciated.
*The title is a line from Sylvia Plath’s poem – Crossing the Water
Crossing the Water
by Sylvia Plath
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.