THANK YOU FOR STOPPING BY. WE'RE WRITING TO A PICTURE PROMPT THIS WEEK. THE STORY CAN ONLY BE 300 WORDS. HERE IS THE PICTURE. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE STORY.
Giselle looked out the big picture window in the dining room of her tiny new
home in Pine Grove. Surely not a grand Victorian like the one she grew up in
but it would have to do. Two snug bedrooms, a roomy kitchen and living room
with this small dining room tacked on.
She was relieved to give up the view of Will Benson's house she’d had. Now she wouldn't have to run into him every day. His hostile glances and cold demeanor stung her like lemon juice squirted in a paper cut.
She sat on the window seat, sipping tea. The vast, snowy, uncluttered view of the Catskill Mountains calmed her. While she rested her gaze on the amazing vista, she tried to ignore the dozens of boxes stacked up behind her. The boxes contained what remained of the lives of her parents and her early years. She was still working up the courage to tackle that project. Any distraction to postpone the odious task was welcome, including an unexpected knock on the door. Muriel Benson stood on her doorstep.
“Mrs. Benson! How nice to see you. Come in,” she pulled gently on the older woman’s arm.
“Muriel. I wasn’t sure you’d see me.”
“Because of Will?”
“Yep.” Muriel glanced at her galoshes.
“He’s pretty mad at me.” Hates me's more like it.
“Stupid man doesn’t know his own heart,” Muriel muttered.
“But you and I’ve been friends for ages. Please come in.” Giselle stepped aside.
“Here. Anyone can tell looking at you, you’re not eating.” She handed the young woman a casserole dish. Tears clouded Giselle’s eyes.
“Can’t stay.” Muriel said after hugging her. She departed as quickly as she had arrived. Giselle wiped her eyes with her hand and closed the door against the cold wind.
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She was relieved to give up the view of Will Benson's house she’d had. Now she wouldn't have to run into him every day. His hostile glances and cold demeanor stung her like lemon juice squirted in a paper cut.
She sat on the window seat, sipping tea. The vast, snowy, uncluttered view of the Catskill Mountains calmed her. While she rested her gaze on the amazing vista, she tried to ignore the dozens of boxes stacked up behind her. The boxes contained what remained of the lives of her parents and her early years. She was still working up the courage to tackle that project. Any distraction to postpone the odious task was welcome, including an unexpected knock on the door. Muriel Benson stood on her doorstep.
“Mrs. Benson! How nice to see you. Come in,” she pulled gently on the older woman’s arm.
“Muriel. I wasn’t sure you’d see me.”
“Because of Will?”
“Yep.” Muriel glanced at her galoshes.
“He’s pretty mad at me.” Hates me's more like it.
“Stupid man doesn’t know his own heart,” Muriel muttered.
“But you and I’ve been friends for ages. Please come in.” Giselle stepped aside.
“Here. Anyone can tell looking at you, you’re not eating.” She handed the young woman a casserole dish. Tears clouded Giselle’s eyes.
“Can’t stay.” Muriel said after hugging her. She departed as quickly as she had arrived. Giselle wiped her eyes with her hand and closed the door against the cold wind.
CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES
CLICK HERE TO GO TO MY WEBSITE
5 comments:
Plenty of scope for lots of conflicts here. Nice snippet.
There's a good story brewing here. I also liked the line "His hostile glances and cold demeanor stung her like lemon juice squirted in a paper cut." You can feel it.
I'm intrigued and curious at the same time. Lovely descriptions with the lemon juice. I want to know more about these characters. Fabulous tale.
Love it. And another book is born.
Ooo, nice descriptions!
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