Finding Her Own Way /Decisions #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

Ma was dead and gone.  There was no reason for Louisa to stay now.  She stooped down and laid the wildflowers she had picked at the foot of the cross which marked Ma’s grave.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  She was going to miss Ma.  After Da died, it was just the two of them, struggling to make ends meet.  Then, Ma got sick and after languishing for a week, she passed away.

Louisa had Ma buried here on the land she loved instead of a graveyard.  Ma wanted to be free, even in death.  Well, now she was.  She was at peace.

Wiping her eyes, Louisa stood.  Her pale blue eyes scanned the endless stretch of green land around her.  Yes, she had made up her mind weeks ago that she was going to leave this place she had called home since the day Da and Ma brought her home from the orphanage.  She was going to miss it.  It was a happy place, filled with love and laughter and the smell of fresh bread and Ma’s delicious Treacle Tarts.

It was hard to leave but she had to.  Beyond the horizon a new destiny awaited her.  She remembered Ma’s words.  “When I pass on, I want you to go and find your own way, Child.  I don’t want you to be stuck here.”

“Well, Ma,” she whispered.  “I’m going to do as you said.  I’m going to find my own way and make you and Da proud,  I promise.”

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Decisions at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Assimilation

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Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

Assimilation.  It was something Chaska fought against from the very start.  Much like I tried to fight my attraction and gradual love for him.  We were of different cultures and races.  I always believed that one day after I left college, I would marry a colored man.  Never once did I ever imagine that I would end up falling in love with a Lakota Sioux man.

The moment I saw him, I sensed that I was in grave trouble.  He was bigger than life but at the same time, reserved.  He was strong not just physically but spiritually and mentally.  I was struck by his features—handsome, weather-beaten face, smooth dark skin and long, thick, flowing black hair and his quiet strength.

He and two other Indians enrolled in this historically black college.  It was clear that they felt out of place and resisted wearing the uniforms but I persuaded him to and he them.  He disliked being in a classroom, saying that outdoors would be better– nature would be the classroom.  The desks were set up in the woods behind the college.  Years later, they still sit there, neglected.  As for me, I’ve a happy home elsewhere with Chaska.

 

 

200 Words

This story was inspired by the 1999 movie, Unbowed.  It’s a story about three Lakota Sioux men who enroll in a historically black college, and their reluctance to assimilate causes friction between their black peers. Some come to embrace their similar history, while others remain bitter.  One of them falls in love with a black woman.

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Role-Play

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My name is Ezra and I’m an Angolan woman married to Francisco, a Portuguese businessman.  We have been married for ten years.  We have two children, a boy named Bento and a girl named Mafalda.  We live in Luanda.  During the week, I’m at home alone because Rodrigo is at the office and the children are in school.  I’m a housewife and I love it.  I love taking care of my family.

From the time I was seven years old, I knew that I wanted to be a homemaker when I was older.  My mother, God bless her soul, was my inspiration.  I watched her work tirelessly and happily to take care of the home, my father, my siblings and me.  When I was old enough, I helped around the house.  She taught me how to cook and keep a clean house.  She told me that one day I would be a wife and it was best to start learning how to do things as early as possible.  Sadly, she didn’t live to see me get married or hold her grandchildren.  My father and my siblings were at my wedding.  They were happy for me and warmly welcomed Rodrigo into the family.  They weren’t upset that I married a European man instead of an African man.

Rodrigo and I met when I was working as a cook at a restaurant owned by a family friend.  He came in there one day to have lunch with a client.  After having my Fish Calulu, he wanted to meet me to personally compliment me on the dish.  Feeling a little self-conscious after being in the hot kitchen all morning and not having enough time to fix myself up, I went into the dining-room.  He stood up as I approached.  He was tall and very attractive in his expensive looking grey suit.  I was immediately attracted to him.  He smiled and said in Portuguese, “I wanted to personally tell how much I enjoyed the Fish Calulu.  It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

I smiled shyly.  “Thank you.”

His client had left so we were alone.  “My name is Rodrigo,” he said, extending his large hand.  I looked at it before placing my hand in it.  The long fingers closed over mine in a firm handshake.

“I’m Ezra.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ezra.  I wonder if you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

I gulped.  He was asking me out on a date.  I could hardly believe it.  It took a moment for me to say, “Yes.”

“Good.  I’ll meet you here at eight.  “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”  I watched him leave and then returned to the kitchen.

The following night we went for dinner at a popular Portuguese restaurant.  Afterwards, we went for a drive.  We saw each other regularly after that and the following year, we got married.  I quit my job at the restaurant after learning that I was pregnant with Bento.

Life with Rodrigo ideal.  Our sex life is amazing  and sometimes, we indulge in role play which add a little spice to the marriage.  Lately, I have been dressing up as a slave girl while he pretends to be my slave master.   But this is happening way too often.  He wants to do it for every lovemaking session.

Last night, he pulled my dress down about my waist and turned me around so that my bare back was to him and had me hug the bedpost.  He got the whip he had bought from one of those sex stores and started to use it on me.  It didn’t hurt but Rodrigo wanted me to pretend that it did.  When he was done, he dragged the dress off and threw me down on the bed.  I lay there while he ravaged me, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if this nightmare would ever end.  What had started out as harmless fun had become something I dreaded and desperately wanted to stop.  I wanted to be his wife and lover again not his slave.

I’m sitting here in the kitchen, staring out at the window.  I have made up my mind to tell Rodrigo that I’m not going to be his slave in the bedroom anymore.  And if he cares about me and our marriage, he will respect my wishes.  Worst case scenario, I will pack up and leave.  And of course, take Bento and Mafalda with me.

Hours later, I’m in the bedroom and Rodrigo walks after taking a long, hot shower.  He’s stark naked and by the looks of him, he’s in the mood.  I’m standing by the bed, wearing one of my nightgowns.  The slave girl garb was tossed in the garbage along with the whip.  I was very determined not to subject myself to that again.  Before he could say anything, I said, “Rodrigo, I’m Ezra, your wife, not your slave girl.  I don’t ever want to play that role again.  I didn’t mind doing it the first few times but you want to do it every time and it’s no longer fun for me.  It has become degrading.  I refuse to do it any more.”

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Rodrigo stared at me.  Silence filled the room and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for him to say something.  He came over to me and putting his hands on my shoulders, he said as his eyes met mine.  “Me desculpe, querida.  I’m sorry.  I should have realized that this particular type of role playing would affect you.  It was very insensitive of me.  Please forgive me.”

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave and I hugged him around the waist and buried my face in his chest.   He will never know how close I came to leaving him if he had not respected my wishes.

Role-play in marriages is healthy and exciting but make sure that both of you are having fun. Never indulge in role-play which will demean or devalue either of you.

The Dasara Festival

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The atmosphere is festive as tourists and locals celebrate Dasara, the autumnal equinox festival and public holiday.  It’s the day in the Hindu legends when the goddess Chamundeshwari killed the demon Mahishasura and good triumphed over evil.  Dasara is observed through special prayer meetings and food offerings to the gods at home or in temples, outdoor fairs, large parades and bonfires in the evening.

I watch my husband and our children as they celebrate.  One day, I will have victory over him too.

 

83 Words

 

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Photo by Sylvester Dsouza

This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click HERE.

Sources: Wikipedia ;Time and Date; Your Dictionary

Puppy Love

“Adorable,” she said as she watched him with the three puppies.  He had brought them over from their next door neighbor.

“Who, me?”

“No, silly, the puppies.”

“Yes, they are.”

“As adorable as they are, we aren’t going to keep all three.”

He sighed.  “I was afraid you’d say that.  Okay, which one do you think we should keep?”

She got up from the sofa and went over to them.  She sat cross legged on the floor and looked at the little critters.  She picked up the black one with the white patch on its tiny nose.  She cuddled him against her.  “This one,” she said.

guy with puppies“Good choice.  Well, Patch, it looks like this is going to be your new home.”

“Patch?” she looked quizzically at her husband.

“Don’t you think it’s a fitting name?”

“It’s a bit corny but it will do.”

“I’ll take his brother and sister back over to Bill and Cheryl.  Are you sure you don’t want to keep them?  You know to keep Patch company?”

“I’m sure,” she insisted with a laugh.  “One puppy is more than enough.  While you take them back, I’ll fix up a place for this little guy.”

He sighed and got up.  “All right.  I’ll be back shortly.”

As she fixed up a basket with old blankets for Patch, she wondered what Erik would say if he knew that there was going to be another addition to the family.  She smiled.  Tomorrow, they would go shopping for a crib and think about turning the spare bedroom into a nursery.

For Dabir’s Sake

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PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Aleena let herself into the home she once shared with her teenage son, Dalir, her heart heavy. Leaning against the door for a moment, her misty eyes espied the table where she kept the shells Dabir collected. It was something he loved doing whenever he went to the beach.

A sob rose in her throat. Dabir was gone. He’d died in the fire at the factory where he worked because the exits were blocked. Today, the court ruled in favor of the company. She was bitterly disappointed but vowed, “I won’t give up. I’ll continue to fight for Dabir’s sake.”

100 Words

This story was inspired by a true event where a mother lost her teenage son in a factory fire because there was no where for him to exit.  The court ruled against her and the other plaintiffs although she believed that they had a strong case.   She felt that the German retailer KiK was responsible and should apologize.   Over 250 people died because the safety standards were blatantly violated by the factory owners.  The emergency exits were blocked or locked.

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  DW

Destination: Singapore

Sunday Photo Fiction Dec 9 2018

Photo Credit: Sunday Photo Fiction

I watched travelers surge through the doors of the Seattle airport terminal.  I followed them, pulling my luggage behind me. It was hot but I wore a long sleeve sweater.  I wore it to cover the bruises on my arms. Thankfully, I didn’t have a black eye or I’d be forced to wear sunglasses and that would look odd when I was on the plane.

I wasn’t traveling for pleasure like these people. I was fleeing from an abusive common law relationship. I’d been saving up to leave him for months. And today when he was at work, I quickly packed my suitcase, grabbed my passport and other essentials and left.

I heard that contrary to popular belief, booking airline tickets late is often cheaper. It wasn’t until I was on my way to the airport that I decided where I wanted to go. I went up the counter and booked a flight to Singapore. I’d always wanted to go there. I’ve heard that it’s a very safe place for women travelers. Besides, my ex would never think of looking for me there.

 

183 Words

 

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

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