Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.
My words are:
trees ~ daylight ~ etched ~ bluebells ~ silver
It was submitted by: https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/
A Story As Old As Time
Daylight disappeared behind the trees. Stingy streaks of light peeking out behind giant trunks of the Live Oaks & Willows. You could hear the sounds of running water behind the house bubbling over the rocks & rotten logs long surrendered to the deep, dark waters of Little Possum Creek.
She stood at the clothesline deep in thought. You could see the worry and stress etched across her face. The silver that threaded through her hair hadn’t been there last summer, but winter had been long and hard and she had earned every single one of those gray hairs. Her hand came up unconsciously to rub the back of her neck. The tension had moved in months ago and showed no signs of leaving any time soon.
She put her hands across her growing belly already protective of the small seed that had been planted months ago. This baby was all she had left of him and she was all the baby would ever have. She suddenly felt unworthy of this special gift that she had been given.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do little one, but we’ll get through it together. That’s all we can do.” She sat on the back porch instantly reminded of the loose board that she had forgotten to fix. The bluebells that he had planted last spring were in full bloom. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears which happened often.
She missed him so bad that is was a literal ache in her chest. Sometimes it was so bad she could hardly breathe. She was worried some nights that she’d lay there forgotten while she and the baby withered away. She had no idea what she was going to do no matter how many times she thought about it.
She was out here in the middle of nowhere all alone with little money and barely any food with a baby on the way. These thoughts often overwhelmed her because no matter how much she wanted things to work out she couldn’t guarantee it.
She had planted her garden a few weeks ago with the seeds and starts that Patrick had babied through the long winter months. She could put food away into the root cellar for winter. She had learned how to can the green beans, okra, apples & peaches from the orchard they had found about a mile from the farm. She had Bessie for milk and when they needed protein she would hunt…how hard could it be?
She had put off going into town for weeks now, preferring to live in this little cocoon where she could hide from her sorrows by keeping busy with all of the unfinished projects they had started together. Sometimes she could even pretend that he was still alive. That he hadn’t died that sunny, cold afternoon trying to fell a tree.
She knew she couldn’t continue to pretend that life was normal. She didn’t do it all of the time. She had done what she had to do, hadn’t she? She had dug his grave and buried him out in the back by the pretty Easter Lillys that sprouted up every spring. She could look out the kitchen window and see the rough, wooden cross that was leaning haphazardly in the muddy ground.
God, she missed him. He was her everything and had been since the minute their eyes had met in the General Store where she was picking up supplies for her students. He had followed her out with his hat in his hand begging for just a moment of her time. Of course, she hadn’t given it to him. She wasn’t that kind of girl.
She had been on her own since she was 15 and her parents had been killed in a tornado that slammed into their little farmhouse with the strength of 100 horses. It was so sudden that while she had been able to make it to the storm shelter her parents hadn’t. She sometimes doubted she could start over once again.
She straightened her shoulders. She had to go into town and by God, she was going tomorrow. She had to see the doctor, meet the midwife and she had to have some supplies because whether she was ready or not this baby was coming & coming soon…
As most of you know, I love to write fiction and you probably think this is one of those stories. Actually, it’s not. About a year ago I had a Past Life Regression by my friend Carol Cassara (over Zoom no less!) and this is what I saw. This was the experience I had. I can still remember waking up and feeling that sorrow so desperately I had to go find my own Patrick and see him with my own eyes.
I’ve decided to finish this story because you know I like the underdog and I feel as if I have some stake in how it ends. The rest will be fiction of course, because that’s where that particular memory ended. I had never had any kind of regression before and wasn’t totally sure that I believed in it. I do now. Stay tuned for Part 2 next month! Do you believe in regressions?
At the end of this post, you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.
Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:
Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com
Spatulas on Parade https://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com
The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/
On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/
Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/
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