This blog is for all who desire to create with words and images.
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You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire.
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Friday, April 3, 2009

Around the Corner

Photo by Louise Bostock,
and visit her blog - A View from Carmine Superiore
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Suggested prompt...
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Take a walk down this cobbled street and around the corner...



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The trip had been talked about for years. They dreamed of going on their honeymoon but could never afford it. Their kids were through college, the mortgage was paid, and now they could take the vacation of a lifetime. They would walk the cobbled streets, dine al fresco, visit museums, get lost in the city turning down alleys and backroads, just wandering.

Walking down one more cobbled street, she turns the corner and sees a tiny little chapel. The open door and faint light welcomes her inside. A priest is at the front of the sanctuary and turns to smile at her. She walks partially down the aisle and sits in a pew.

The long awaited vacation had been planned, had been paid for. The travel guides had been paged trhough endlessly. Then he became ill. On his deathbed, he insisted she take that trip and think of him.

She thought of him as she sat in that pew alone, crying.

~ Faith

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12 comments:

Crazy Mo said...

The night had been perfect so far. A smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth as they strolled hand in hand. In the distance, she could hear music and laughter. A street musician, perhaps, entertaining other couples out for a walk. She smiled up at him. "How about stopping for coffee and dessert?" he asked. She nodded, eyes sparkling. "I'm always up for something sweet." "Let's take a look around this corner," he suggested. The music was getting louder as they passed the large planters. The strings of lights winked overhead, guiding them, it seemed. She could hear clapping now, rhythmically tapped out to the beat of violins and guitars. As they rounded the corner she could see people laughing, dancing, holding glasses of wine high in the air. Delighted, she pulled him into the crowd. "Let's join in!"

Dan Felstead said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dan Felstead said...

Blog Journal entry:
December 25th, 2009...

My first Christmas away from family and friends. After my loss, I opened up an atlas, pointed to a spot on the map in Italy and here I am. My life will no longer be the comfortable, secure, love affair I had with Karen for 30 years. Cancer finally exacted it's revenge after defeating it the first 4 times.

I am transported out of the Midwest into a medieval time warp so far away from the pain and anguish I left behind. Strolling the streets, I hear the distant sound of festive holiday music. The maze of narrow time worn streets lead me to an open area just beyond parsonage.

The only seat available is with a local family and the fruity Chianti is the best I've ever tasted. The music, even though with an Italian flavor floods my mind with Christmases past...a memory I must somehow now break from.

In very slow broken English, the dark haired matriarch senses my despair and need to connect, holds my hand and with the softest voice offers "You welcome to my famiglia...you stay now...no past only future...Auguri di Natale."

Tonight, I follow fate, tomorrow I plan my new life.

Dan

April 3, 2009 6:44 AM

Faith said...

The trip had been talked about for years. They dreamed of going on their honeymoon but could never afford it. Their kids were through college, the mortgage was paid, and now they could take the vacation of a lifetime. They would walk the cobbled streets, dine al fresco, visit museums, get lost in the city turning down alleys and backroads, just wandering.

Walking down one more cobbled street, she turns the corner and sees a tiny little chapel. The open door and faint light welcomes her inside. A priest is at the front of the sanctuary and turns to smile at her. She walks partially down the aisle and sits in a pew.

The long awaited vacation had been planned, had been paid for. The travel guides had been paged trhough endlessly. Then he became ill. On his deathbed, he insisted she take that trip and think of him.

She thought of him as she sat in that pew alone, crying.

cagrowngirl said...

I take a walk down the cobbled streets and to my amazement the village is alive with action...people at cafes eating dining slowly on conversation and good food, children eating gelato and the hum of Vespas in the background. As I continue to walk toward my destination I am startled by my husband coming up behind me with a flower in his hand. This village night has made romance come alive tonight.

Hedgie said...

Run for your lives! The street is filled with a stampeding herd of runaway pet rocks, and they're heading this way!

Dani said...

As I walk along the cobbled narrow street, I'm reminded of a familiar scene of a book I once read. When the narrow pathways between buildings shielded the light so those who sparkled in it could remain undiscovered. Walking about the humans, searching for that perfect one who was about to kill himself. This scene makes me imagine the red scarves blowing in the wind and a clock tower in the center of a square where he was about to step out into the light, expose himself to the crowd, and be killed for doing so. Because he thought I was dead. Me. Because he loved me. Awe, the dreams.

I.N.Kwell said...

This street was nothing new for Marilena. She knew every corner, every stone and every person in town (it wasn't that big). But around the corner would be some one she did not know. She was heading down to the square for her cousin Flora's engagment party, but a small rip in her dress had made her late. She wasn't surprised the streets were empty, but toward her came footsteps. Who would be leaving the celebration early? It was a young American, not much older than herself. And very handsome, she thought to herself. "Are you Marilena?" he said in childish Italian, "Yes." she responded slowly- how could he know her name? "I need a room at your family's inn. Your father said..." The young man stoped, trying to find the words. Marilena smiled, "I do speak english." She said in his native language. He smiled with relief, "Come, I check you in." He followed her back around the corner and before long she was opening the door to his room, "Thank you," he said in Italian. They had been speaking in a little of each dilalect. "Do you know where I could get something to eat here?" Marilena laughed and grabbed his hand, "Every place is closed, you'll have to come down to the party! I was just on my way there!"

Simply Heather said...

They had just had an argument and she didn’t know how she could return to him with these angry feelings. She felt that, with all she had in her, she couldn’t give enough. He always seemed to want more.

As her tears fell to the ground with each step, she turned the corner hoping for a new path; for something that would give her a simple answer. As she looked up, she saw a man standing before her. He looked up and as their eyes met, they realized the truth of their past and the reality of their future. They didn’t know one another, but said hello and kept walking; each to their own direction.

Slowly, both glanced over their shoulders to see the other behind them. They turned and stood at a distance from each other and just stared. She felt a longing in her heart to spend time with him. He felt the need to touch her face, to hold her, to love her.

They waved it off and continued on their journey in life. Years passed and with more arguments came an end to her relationship, it was over. She wasn’t able to become who he desired for her to be.

She sat in the coffee shop that evening, alone in her thoughts. With her head resting on her hand, she could feel a presence of comfort in her midst. She glanced up to find that man standing there beside her. He was smiling, with a single rose in his hand and asked her if he could sit down.

That night was the beginning of a friendship that she’d never had in her life. She found the man that loved her; the one that knew who she was without a word and the romance of the moment lasted for the rest of their lives together.

SSQuo said...

Around the Corner we decided to meet
He said he'd be there

I'd seen a picture of him, and he of me
We'd shared our thoughts, our feelings, our lives

But right there Around the Corner
I was going to see 'him' for the first time

In the flesh, walking, talking
His lips moving, his eyelids blinking

No more typed words, no more virtual interpretations
I'd hear his voice, he mine

I walked three steps and peeked
Around the corner he stood, black corduroy pants and a beige shirt

Our eyes met, we smiled
We walked together past the corner, chatting away

Cynthia said...

"I've been here before..." Korynne said slowly, resting her hand on the fountain and looking at it as if trying to decipher her reflection in a cracked mirror. Mary stopped fiddling through her bag of recent purchases. "What are you talking about Kors?" she laughed, "You've never been out of Wisconsin, how could you have ever been in freaking Italy?"

Korynne stared down the street a moment, and then stepped forward with a purpose in her step. Mary followed her, laughing. "Where are you going?"

"I dreamed this or... or something." She was still set on where she was going as if she had walked this cobbled street a hundred times and, although she kept her gaze straight ahead, she was incredibly aware of her surroundings.

"Well, what's down here? What happens next?" Mary asked, trying to keep up.

"I don't remember," said Korynne, pausing at the end of the street and looking around the corner. Before she was able to take in what she was looking at, a loud rumble sounded as if a freight train was heading straight for them. The ground shook violently and Mary squealed as she fell over onto the ridged pavement. Korynne turned towards Mary, but noticed that the lights that had been strung between the buildings now hung in the shape of a 3.

Before she could see Mary again, a piercing ring sounded and Korynne was thrust into her bed. She felt nauseous as she grabbed her phone. Mary had texted her, 'kors did u get ur chk ystrday? need 2 book flight 2 rome b4 noon!! hugs!'

Tracy said...

"This is exactly like I pictured it to be," she exclaimed, her glowing face matching that of the light that danced and twinkled over our heads. "I don't want this night to end!"

She twirled like a butterfly and slipped up the street ahead of me, wandering with no particular destination, only her curiosity as a friendly guide.

I had no idea how I came to be here with her. She was pretty enough - true - but too young, too whimsical. No, I did know how I ended up walking through the twists and turns of this stolen night with her. She caught my eye in the cafe earlier, her tongue tripping over the language as she pointed at pastry and made up for her ignorance with an angel's face framed by soft blond curls. I had stepped forward, asking if I could be of help, and placed her order. She had laughed, holding up her palms in a helpless gesture, explaining that she did not have an ear for language. When I asked her how long she had been in the country, she said:

"A month! One whole wonderful month!"

A month, and she still couldn't place a simple order? I mused. But her charm was bewitching and despite my intentions of retiring early, I agreed to join her on a stroll through the warm evening air.

As we walked as she chattered excitedly, her hands fluttering as she admired the buildings and doorways that we passed, her pace quickening as if she had only one night to drink it all in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted a little alcove built into the wall. I paused there, reflecting on the tiny figures and flowers. The display lacked a Christian presence; a dionysian flavor instead enveloped the shrine. When I looked up, I caught only the hem of her white dress as she disappeared around a corner.

A man finds himself at a thousand different crossroads in his lifetime. Some are life altering; others involve only a change of everyday scenery. I found myself in that moment confronted with two paths: the one ahead, with a wispy young girl leading the way, and the other, a well-worn known road leading to my comfortable room, a heavy wine, and a good night's sleep.

That night I choose the road home, with my comfortable room and soft bed. I have never regretted my decision, but I admit, I still wonder where her journey led that night - and I wonder if she ever learned to speak the language. But maybe, with her angel face and flowing curls, she never had to.