Before I get started with the Monday Muse…
I want to thank everyone for stopping by on the hop and leaving a comment. The two winners for the bookmarks are (drum roll) ~ Kittyb78 and Kayelle Allen. Again thanks.
Now for this weeks muse…it’s based on this picture of a park (remember flash fiction is 500 words or less).
Interlude in the Park…
On a single long narrow lot sandwiched between two old decaying brick buildings no longer serving their intended purpose is a garden. Flowers of different varieties and colors boarder the red brick path that leads to a center gazebo painted the traditional white. Water trickles down a five tier fountain in the far corner. A decorative fence surrounds the urban oasis blocking the harsh reality of the world on the other side.
She sits alone in the gazebo, eyes closed as she listens to the steady drum of rain on the roof and the occasional chirps of the birds. What if the park was located in the plush upper side instead of here? She releases the restrains on her mind, letting it run free to form images and delve into areas she usually kept closed off.
It would still be raining and she’d still be in the gazebo only not alone. A handsome man would be with her. He would be staring at her with eyes as green as the summer grass. His lips formed a wide boyish smile that created a slight dimple in his left cheek.
“Come on, we’re alone. It’s raining so no one will come today,” he coaxed. “Just a quick kiss.”
A shiver shook her as imagined standing on her toes to reach his lips.
“Excuse me Miss, are you alright?” A male voice inquired shattering her fantasy.
Her upper lip twisted in frustration as she opened her eyes. “Yes, just relaxing and enjoying the summer storm,” she replied looking over at the intruder. He was as far from her daydream lover as possible. He had to be in his fifties with oily thin brown hair and a protruding belly that would give full-term pregnant women nightmares.
“It’s a beautiful garden, isn’t it? I’m the volunteer caretaker. I actually started this garden in memory of my wife after she died nine years ago.” He leaned on the lattice resting a pair of long handled pruning shears on his shoulders. “All she did everyday was sit in our backyard surrounded by her precious flowers daydreaming of what her life would have been like if she’d married better.” The man shifted and she stomach recoiled at the odor that invaded her lungs. “Still I make this for her.” He swung the shears driving the points into her neck. “And fertilize it with useless snobs like you.”
I’d love to here your flash fiction based on the two pictures I posted.