I went back to the garden where it all started. The new owner didn’t notice me – too busy drinking tea and pruning the roses.
I preferred it wilder. Do you remember? The way honeysuckle tumbled over the wall? That’s been tamed and trimmed. The way the wide branch of the chestnut tree made a place to sit and read or dream? She’d had it sliced away, leaving a scar. The lichen-covered statue of the winged boy where we had our first kiss? She’d had him carted away.
I could have cried. I would have stroked all those wounds with my fingertips, offered healing – but I’m insubstantial now: I’ve become a memory myself. I could only whisper my stories to the tidy roses, encourage them to rebel, to fling stems up the fences, to throw their scent onto the breeze, to grow thorns, draw blood.
A flash fiction piece for dVerse’s prosery night. I’m hosting. Come and prose with us.
Really, rrally beautiful writing. Loved everything in this, desctiption, message, mood.
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Man, this piece really sings and shines. The twist ending is perfect. The prompt line fits snugly. Thank you for the prompt.
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Wowzers, Sarah. This is simply beautiful. So powerfully poignant!
Much love,
David
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We got our wires inextricably crossed with this one! Your version is fiercer. More poetic. I love the final injunction.
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Yes, when I read yours, I realised that is what I wanted to write.
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I assumed we were writing in tandem, a synchronicity of ideas. Funny how many of us wrote about trees. I haven’t read any about tats.
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WOW!!
The last paragraph is awesome
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Oh my….I LOVE what you did with the line! The ending is superb.
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I love the beautiful way you wrote this. Such a sad, heartfelt poem, yet full of fire and ice at the very end… just like us!
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Oh, this is so beautifully written, Sarah–the whole thing, but especially that final paragraph. I really want more of it. I feel like she’s the unnamed narrator in Rebecca, and there’s a backstory.
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This is beautifully written, Sarah. If the memories we create were to cling to the walls after we’re gone, they might echo like this.
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Oh, Sarah, I feel the same way. I love tumbling honeysickle far more than trimmed…..the missing tree limb and the vanished winged boy hurt. New owners should pay some respect to what went before.
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My kind of ghost story, Sarah.
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– but I’m insubstantial now: I’ve become a memory myself.
The older I get, the more I feel this way., like I am being erased.
You said it so beautifully.
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I like the rebellious energy of the ending here Sarah, excellent.
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Beautiful flash story.
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So we’ll done? Enjoyed!
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Didn’t mean to tap a question mark. And I mean “well” not “we’ll”. Ugh.
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Ha, ha! Very different…thank you!
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So so beautiful.
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A lovely piece, Sarah. Such nostalgia and beauty!
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Love this Sarah!
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How love sits so deeply, especially when stirred by memories, wonderful.
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A truly lovely piece, full of a fierce love for the freedom of beauty to hurt. Brava!
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Yes it is so hard to let go of a home and let it become a house again for someone else. You captured those feelings beautifully here and i felt the sadness. I am a believer in never going back because things like this can be so painful.
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Very lyrical writing and a beautiful message. I enjoyed reading this.
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Hi Nitin! I’ve been trying to comment on your story, but WordPress is sending me round in circles. I really enjoyed it, such a powerful central idea. Thank you for sharing!
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WP is giving me a ton of issues. They said that they rectified the problem now, but I can only hope. Thank you for your kind words about my story.
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So poignant and beautifully expressed.
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finely drawn, Sarah ~
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