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.

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

Friday, March 20, 2009

Tender Heart

Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood andPixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/
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Suggested Prompt...
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His was a tender heart....



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James used to be a security guard until he was laid off of work 3 months ago. His wife gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy. Their first child.

James looks into his beautiful son's eyes and knows what he needs to do. He knows his family cannot sustain themselves with the meager unemployment checks he receives.

James wears his black tank top that has the words "Security" on the front. He takes his resumee and some business cards.

James walks the street and hands out his resumee and his card at every shop, restaurant, and business. He lets them know that he would be a great security guard for their business.

So far, no one is looking for a security guard. But that doesn't stop James. He has a little boy and a wife to take care of, and that thought keeps him going.

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H.K.

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7 comments:

Dan Felstead said...

He was only doing his job, behind the security facade was a man not unlike you or me. Yet he was clear on the boundaries. He was watching out for the lady just to the right of his arm in the background of the picture. He knew her well and his loyalty to her left no doubt.

The music festival was in it's second day. The female was a backup singer. She never took center stage, always in the background, always anonymous. Bluegrass, acoustic, electric, emo, retro, jazz even gospel - She was on stage blending in with each group following the cues and executing flawlessly. I had to know what she was really like. Where she fit in. Was she content not having her true style but like a chameleon always becoming part of the next best thing? I noticed she had taken a break, now was my chance to capture her true style in her own environment. She took refuge in a safe corner and remained almost invisible....protected by her loyal friend and confidant. I kept my distance.

Dan

septembermom said...

Hours pass as he stands there. Around 3 a.m. every night, he rides for miles waiting to see that dilapidated porch. He carefully crosses the doorway hoping to not disturb all that's good in his home. His eyes tear as he slowly opens the door to his infant's room. Such joy he thought was not possible for him. This child's smiling face raises his soul out of a past filled with pain and disillusionment. The man of the house now.

Dan Felstead said...

September Mom,
You have painted a picture of the security guard in my photo that matches his demeanor so well. And Laura Jayne's prompt also picked up on the fact that even though he is heavily tattooed and outwardly stern...he has a soft inner being that is disguised by his presence.

Thanks for a wonderful interpretation.

Dan

SSQuo said...

I have a tender heart
I tell you I do

You better believe now
Or I'll chop you into two!

H.K. said...

James used to be a security guard until he was laid off of work 3 months ago. His wife gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy. Their first child.

James looks into his beautiful son's eyes and knows what he needs to do. He knows his family cannot sustain themselves with the meager unemployment checks he receives.

James wears his black tank top that has the words "Security" on the front. He takes his resumee and some business cards.

James walks the street and hands out his resumee and his card at every shop, restaurant, and business. He lets them know that he would be a great security guard for their business.

So far, no one is looking for a security guard. But that doesn't stop James. He has a little boy and a wife to take care of, and that thought keeps him going.

Zebuess said...

I wish I could remember his face, but I was too busy sobbing; thirteen years old and having just woken up to find my much-loved old pony dead. My dad called a gruff old excavator acquaintance for the favor, and he came out that morning, as soon as he could. He brought his bulldozer out to the barn and buried her in the back of pasture, under the big hickory tree. He didn't say much and I didn't listen much, I was too busy sobbing. But my dad thanked him and told me there was a gloss in his gruff old eyes. He didn't say much, but he shrugged sheepishly and said he had a dog. He said he understood.
I don't remember his face, but I will never forget his kindness.

~ Denise ~ said...

Yeah, I know what you're thinking...that I am all rough and tough and mean. I saw you reach for your pocket book and move it closer to you as you approached me. It seems you've already determined my character to be less than acceptable.

What you don't know, lady, is that I have the same heart that you do. I want safety inside my workplace, freedom for my family and the ability to enjoy the comforts of living in a democracy that allows me to express who I am.

I hope you see past your fears and allow your eyes to feast upon our similarities.

We are human and have the privilege to pursue happiness...even if mine looks different than yours.