No love coursed through the veins of this house.
Life was hard and it was meant to stay that way.
She would see to it.
Work hard first.
Chop wood and carry water.
Do what you were told
and never veer from the assigned path.
It was difficult for him.
All he wanted was to dance.
To hold her until her heart
left that frigid place
in which it had become so comfortable.
He smiled and whistled
while he worked in the field,
but kept his head low in the home.
It was not his castle.
It was a prison of forced humility.
The last to go,
it was left to him
how the future
would remember them.
He stayed humble
while her eyes
would pierce the world
until nature’s immutable laws
turned the stone to sand.
19 comments:
What a story you coined! Did you know these people?
You breathed life into these two and it picked up a broom and swept me right through the door!
There is so much in the expressions on their stone faces. A story, a lifetime...
I feel like I know these strangers.
Powerful stuff here. I don't know if you just found the picture of the gravestone and created the story or if you knew them. Doesn't matter. I loved it.
I love finding a picture that grabs my fancy, my imagination and allowing it to tell me a story that I can write and pass on.
PG
what an interesting headstone...the shape of their eyes tell the story...almost as perfectly as you did. nice.
beautifully done
and apparntly he wanted it to be "wife of" forever
perhaps he is holding her - thawed - now
beautifully told.
So...nature turned them into cum?
That was so well done!
A story teller sees a tale when others walk right on by...
:)
-C
Let your muse range free!
Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
wow. incredible words to those pictures! Loved it...
Whoa....
It's hard to think of a life summed up like that.
Great post!
I wonder what he did those last two years without her...
But wait. See how she has no name, but Elisabeth, wife of...? and she wasn't there to defend herself, at the end. Older than him, the one who woudn't let him carouse, held him to a higher standard... loved him quietly all those years, only to be carved in stone as a hard, scornful, fearful person to his soft, kind version of himself, her eyes following us as we walked... all fiction? What if...
The woman seems like she is always looking at me...
The expressions on the faces on that tombstone certainly support your lovely tale.
Beautiful supposition from a physical prompt. I truly enjoyed this MM.
What a great carving. You did a wonderful job of imagining their lives. They practically cry out to be brought to life.
Wow! What a wonderful story this all told. Well done, MM!
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