This blog is for all who desire to create with words and images.
You are encouraged to participate in any way that is meaningful to you.

~
All prompts beneath the photos are only suggestions.
You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire.
~
There is no deadline on posting,
you may offer your writing to any prompt anytime.
~
Write and you are a writer.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Worn

photo by Kathryn Wilkens
for more of Kathryn's photography visit -
~
Suggested prompt...
.
Tell me of the last day these shoes were worn.
.
__________________________________
.
He had hit her for the last time. She lay awake all night, then, right before dawn, slipped out of bed and crept to the parlor. Her fingers silently removed the lace from one of his boots. She tested its strength by yanking it taut between her fists, then re-entered the bedroom. Minutes later, she fled, barefoot, to meet her lover by the stream.
~ Kathryn Wilkens
.
.

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE!

If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

8 comments:

C. Beth said...

Instead of following your prompt (guess there's a little rebel in me), I'd like to tell you what this photo brings to mind.

My dad's family has an old family homestead in New Mexico--near a tiny, tiny town called Pietown. No one lives there now, but my great uncle Granville (who we all called Granny) lived there until he passed away several years ago. Visiting him was like going back in time. I'm 31, and I remember when he got running water and electricity. His septic system couldn't handle a lot of usage, so we all had to use the outhouse. His clothes were outdated; his home was outdated. I think I appreciate the unique qualities of Granny and his home more now than I did then.

I can imagine seeing shoes like this, with one of these old-style rugs, at his old, little house.

Great blog; thanks for sharing it. :)

Beth (The One Minute Writer)

Libby Grandy said...

She pulled off the dusty shoes with arthritic hands. The last tomato plant was in the ground, the smell of it still on her hands. She must hurry, because her daughter would be arriving soon, bringing a freshly baked cherry pie. They planned to spend the evening together.
She pulled slippers onto her swollen feet and settled back in the rocking chair. She would just rest a while before washing up and changing her clothes.
It had been a most satisfying day.

katwilkens said...

He had hit her for the last time. She lay awake all night, then, right before dawn, slipped out of bed and crept to the parlor. Her fingers silently removed the lace from one of his boots. She tested its strength by yanking it taut between her fists, then re-entered the bedroom. Minutes later, she fled, barefoot, to meet her lover by the stream.

Laura Jayne said...

Kat...Love it!!!

Libby... Made me want to weep and to smile. Very lovely.

C.Beth... I love writing that is memory filled. This is beautiful.

Barbara Bailey said...

Sarah clumped up the wooden steps onto the back porch. She tapped her heels on the porch edge to knock off mud. Pulling off her boots, a lace broke. The sky was dark and the wind had come up and she picked out the broken lace as she looked up at the sky and watched the wind blow through the big elm. Windows would need closing before the rain began. The linoleum felt cool to her sock feet as she stepped through the screen door. Sarah loved storms. She got an iced tea and picked up her dress shoes and sat down on the porch to watch the storm.

ooooo the bell went off....I need another 5 minutes to see where this story is going! Thanks for the prompt....this is a great idea for a website.

Stevie G.B. said...

These boots of life
These shoes of love
Side by side
Near a garbage can

Remnants of a time
Happy days
Long forgotten
Discarded today

Too old to sell
Too dirty to keep
Long gone
Are the feet they fit

Useless articles
Sent to a dump
Decomposing
For eternity

Mom and Dad are gone
Boots and shoes remain
Painful memories
Cannot be thrown away

But we try

s kay murphy said...

Libby, I just loved your tiny, beautiful, sensual vignette.

justsomethoughts... said...

when they set out that day, they sat in adjoining seats, holding hands and smiling. this was the vacation they planeed on some 37 years ago. when the children came to the house to sort out the remnants of those worn lives, they found the shoes as they had been left. only the second son thought that he might take a picture. he had vowed to himself not to save anything more. he left the shoes undisturbed. the clean-out crew took them away with the rest of the rubbish a few weeks later. the picture of the shoes sat next to the black and white photograph of three smiling people with their hair blowing in the wind. a father, a mother and their second son.