“I’m dead serious, Matt. I’m going to sell the house. It’s too big for me. All of you kids have moved out and have your own families. I’m going into a retirement home so it doesn’t make any sense for me to keep the house. I’ve gotten some very good offers for it.”
“Mother, you can’t sell our home.”
“Matt, I’ve made up my mind. Now, I’m going for a walk.”
After she was gone, he paced the room. He had to stop her from selling the house. His life depended on it.
100 Words
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.
I drift from memory to another, yearning for you. Why did it have to end? I thought we were so happy.
You said that you loved being with me. Being in my arms was where you longed to be. You said it made you feel safe. My kisses warmed your heart.
My love was like a thick blanket you wrapped yourself in. I thought we had something really special. Why did it have to end?
You and me, it was sheer magic. We were two souls knit together. I thought we would last forever. Why did it have to end?
The darkest day of my life was when you told me that it was over. I felt as if my heart had been ripped out. There were tears in your eyes as you explained that you wanted to give your marriage another chance. I watched you walk out of my life.
I hate that you’re back with your husband. What kind of man is he? Is he anything like me? Does he bring you breakfast in bed? Does he dry your hair after you shower? Does he cover you with kisses or buy you gifts? Does he hang upon your every word? Does he know your dreams, the desires of your heart? Does he really know you? Does he even love you?
I think about you everyday, hoping that you would leave him and come back to me. I’m waiting for you to walk through that door. I’m a patient man. I will wait forever if I have to.
This was written for two prompts, the first is the #writephoto Prompt – Yearning at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. The second is the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Drift. If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.
“It’s nice of you to walk me home,” she said, smiling shyly at him as they cut across the field.
The sun cast a soft glow on her face with its large brown eyes which seemed to dance every time she looked at him, making his heart skip a beat. She was the prettiest girl he knew. It was an honor to walk her home.
He smiled. “It’s the least I could do. You’ve been helping me with my assignment. “
Her countenance fell. “Is that the only reason?” she asked.
“No. May I hold your hand?”
She beamed. “Sure.”
100 Words
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.
“But, my Dear, Mr. Foster shall be calling on you at precisely three o’ clock.”
Anna stared at her mother. “Oh, I forgot that he was coming.”
“You would do well not to slight a man of Mr. Foster’s constitution. I’m sure you’re not impervious to his singular affection for you.”
“No, I cannot say that I am. I will admit that Mr. Foster is a very amiable man and I have enjoyed our conversations but I’m afraid that my affection for him is of a platonic nature.”
“My Dear, you would do well to remember that you have no beauty or fortune to recommend you to any man. And so far Mr. Foster is the only gentleman who has shown any solicitude toward you. Don’t let your fancy notions about love blind you to the fact that if you offend Mr. Foster in any way and he withdraws himself as your suitor, you will end up an old maid like your Aunt May.”
Anna took a deep breath. She didn’t want to lose her temper. “Mama, I’m going for a walk now,” she said. “I can do with some fresh air.”
Her mother looked rather put out and she sniffed indignantly, her expression one of censure as she gazed upon her rebellious daughter. It was Anna’s fault, really that there was a rift in their relationship. She had always been a rebellious and unconventional child. “If you want to go gallivanting about the place, by all means do so,” she said. “Just make sure that you are here when Mr. Foster calls. I will not have you embarrass your father and me.”
“I will be back before Mr. Foster comes, Mother.” And after giving her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, she left the room.
What a relief it was to be out of the house. The temperature was mild–pleasant, though the sun wasn’t strangely absent. She headed straight to her favorite spot–the clearing in the wood and the rock with the crack. When she reached it, her face was flushed but she felt invigorated. She sat down on the rock and removed her bonnet. She smoothed her fingers over the golden wisps of her that brushed against her forehead. She could remain there all afternoon but she had to return to the house before Mr. Foster got there. Drat.
Why did Mr. Foster have to show such a marked preference for her company when he could easily have shown the same to other young ladies, like her cousin, Charlotte, for example. Charlotte seemed like a better suited companion for him than she was. And as her mother liked to remind her, Charlotte was very sweet girl with such an agreeable disposition.
“Why can’t you be more like your cousin?” was her mother’s constant query. As fond as she was of Charlotte, there were times when she found her wanting, not to mention boring. No, she would never be like dear sweet and irreproachable Charlotte and that suited her well.
After spending a long time there, enjoying the solitude and nature, she reluctantly quit the place and returned home. Slowly, she entered the foyer, removed her bonnet and made her way to the sitting-room where she would receive her visitor. Upon entering the room, she was surprised to see a strange gentleman standing there beside her mother who was sitting on the sofa. “Anna, my Dear, this is Mr. Abbotsford, Mr. Foster’s nephew.”
Mr. Abbotsford bowed and Anna curtsied. “Miss Fairley. I’m here on my uncle’s behalf. Regrettably, he has been called away on urgent business in London and has bestowed upon me the important task of conveying his deepest regret that he’s unable to keep his appointment with you. I asked me to offer you his profound apologies.”
Before Anna could reply, her mother spoke up. “Mr. Abbotsford, please inform your uncle that although his absence is of a considerable disappointment for my daughter, that she understands his predicament and that upon his return, she will be more than happy to receive him whenever he is able to facilitate another visit.”
Mr. Abbotsford bowed. “I shall inform my uncle of your disappointment, understanding and eagerness to see him.” His gaze shifted back to Anna.
Anna met his stare squarely. He wasn’t at all like his uncle. He was tall with very striking features. His black hair framed a very handsome and tanned face. It was slightly long and brushed against the crisp white collar of his shirt. He looked and had the manners of a gentleman. He looked to be six and twenty. She wondered what his occupation was and why Mr. Foster never spoke of him.
Mrs. Fairley cleared her throat. “Mr. Abbotsford, if you have no pressing business to take you away, perhaps you can stay for tea?”
“I would be delighted,” he replied.
“Very well. I shall ring for tea. Please be seated, Mr. Abbotsford. Sit there by the fireplace. Anna, come and sit beside me.”
Anna dutifully went and sat beside her mother. After arranging her dress and making herself comfortable, she looked over to where Mr. Abbotsford was. Again she wondered why Mr. Foster had never spoken of him nor introduced him. Perhaps, it had to do with the fact that he was young and very handsome. And perhaps, if Mr. Foster were privy to the thoughts that which occupied her mind as she studied his nephew, he would never have enlisted his help to bring her news of the urgent business which had spirited him away this afternoon, preventing him from being at her side now.
As she sipped her tea and listened attentively to the conversation between her mother and their visitor, she hoped that she would see him again. Surely, Mr. Foster won’t object to her family getting better acquainted with his nephew. Perhaps, she could persuade her mother to invite him for dinner. There was no telling how long Mr. Foster would be in London.
This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Rift at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
“Listen to this, O Job; Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God – Job 37:14
When was the last time you stood still and just drank in the beauty around you? A lot of times we are so busy getting from place to place or preoccupied with our lives that we don’t take time to notice the Lord’s handiwork.
I will never forget the day when I was in a park and saw what was the most magnificent sunsets I have ever seen. It was as if the sky were a giant canvas and splashes of red, orange and gold covered it. Everyone who was there at the time, stopped whatever they were doing and just stood still drinking in the amazing view. God was making His presence known. What will it take for God to get your attention?
The next time you take a walk in the park or go for a drive, on an errand or on your way to work or college, take a moment to appreciate the wondrous works God.
After he washed and dried his face, Mr. Thornber walked to the window and looked out. His room afforded him one of the most pleasant views of the grounds. It was another rather agreeable afternoon. The first signs of spring were visible. He could see the buds on the trees and the emergence of the water in the pond which had been covered in ice not so long ago. Earlier this morning on his ride back here, he’d stopped at the waterfall where he used to while away many happy childhood hours. Presently, the quietness was broken by the twittering of birds. He smiled. He couldn’t wait to go back outside. His eyes swept across the grounds when they were arrested by something.
The smile vanished from his face when he saw the two figures standing beneath the oak tree. He recognized one as belonging to Miss Roth and the other belonging to a gentleman he had never seen before. He leaned out as if to get a closer look which wasn’t possible from that point. Who was this stranger? Jealousy burned in him like a wild fire as he watched them stroll over to the bench and sit down, facing each other. What was he doing here? When did Miss Roth meet him?
His face pale now, he watched them, wondering what they were talking about. And feeling like an utter fool. He had cut his business short today just so he could rush home to be with her. All morning she had occupied his thoughts, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He enjoyed their walks and talks and had planned to take a turn in the garden with her as they had been doing for the past several weeks. He was under the impression that she enjoyed his company too. Perhaps he was mistaken. She seemed to enjoy this fellow’s company a great deal. They were having a rather animated conversation. He appeared younger too. Why shouldn’t she prefer a man closer to her age?
His hands curled into tight fists as he struggled to keep his feelings in check. It was propriety and pride which kept him from going to there and demanding to know who this interloper was. How would it look a man eight and thirty behaving like a jealous fool over a girl of nineteen?
What was he going to do now? He couldn’t remain here watching them and torturing himself. He had to leave Cedar Manor at once for he feared that running into Miss Roth would be his undoing. He had no idea where he was going but he had to get out of there now. He turned away from the window and strode over to where his jacket laid and swept it up, pulling it on as he left the room.
He ran down the steps two at a time and passed the housekeeper, Mrs. Westcott in the foyer. She glanced at him in surprise, wondering what in the world could make him take off without so much a word to her. Perhaps, he had urgent business to attend to, she reasoned. Shrugging her shoulders, she continued down the foyer and went up to her room to have a nap.
Outside as Mr. Thornber was hurrying to the stables to get his horse, he saw his niece Emily returning from her walk with her nurse Ada in tow. She broke into a run when she saw him. “Uncle Edward,” she cried. She stopped short when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”
His distress clearly didn’t escape her notice. “Who is the gentleman with Miss Roth?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Oh, you mean Julian?” her face brightened. “I like him. He’s very nice.”
Mr. Thornber’s expression darkened. “I didn’t ask if you liked him, Emily,” he snapped. “I asked who he was.”
“He’s Miss Roth’s childhood friend.”
“How long has he been here?”
“He came this morning. He was in the school room with Miss Roth and me and then he had lunch with us. After we finished my lessons, he and Miss Roth came with Ada and me for a walk but they came back before we did. Do you want to meet him, Uncle?”
“No, I do not want to meet him. Tell Mrs. Westcott that I won’t be back until late.” And with that, he turned and strode away, his steps quick and furious. Both Emily and Ada gazed after him in bewilderment. Moments later he was racing out of the stables and away from Cedar Manor.
Emily turned to Ada. “Why was Uncle Edward so angry?” she asked. “And why didn’t he want to meet Julian?”
Ada put her arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Emily, perhaps you are too young for me to be telling you this but I think your uncle is jealous.”
“Jealous?” Emily exclaimed, looking even more bewildered. “But why?”
“Never mind, little one,” Ada told her. “And please, I beg you, don’t tell your uncle what I said.”
Emily shook her head, thinking adults could be so strange sometimes as she and Ada walked to the house.
Adelaide watched as the mist spread across the field like a veil. How strange it looked. It was a bright, sunless morning. The air was cool and comfortable–a perfect day for a walk with the amiable Mr. Philips. A kindly gentleman with a very agreeable disposition made him the perfect suitor for her by her parent’s estimation. Of her own feelings about the matter, she wasn’t sure. She liked him fairly well but it wasn’t the sort of liking that would lead to a deeper affection. Still, he was a very fine fellow and she looked forward to seeing him.
She heard her name and turned. It was Mr. Philip striding briskly toward her, smiling broadly. He was accompanied by a very handsome and smartly dressed gentleman whom he introduced as his brother, Lionel.
She curtsied and he bowed.
“I hope you don’t mind me accompanying Henry and you on your walk.”
“Not at all.”
Henry offered her his arm.
Her eyes met Lionel’s. I fear that I’m in danger of falling for him.
This was written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. For more details visit here. To read other stories for this photo prompt, visit here.
