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They had been with her for as long as she could remember which wasn’t very long. They were down there for her, with her. At the foot of her bed, clinging together, and crowding and arguing, as friends do. Gracie watched them all huddled together, their colours a jumble, legs sticking into ribs, elbows into eyes.
When the light went out, and the warm went away, and she seemed alone, Gracie was less sure. She saw mere shapes with no form, shadows with no smile, sockets with no wink. The wicker of the basket was tossed upon stormy seas, the softly, softly friends buffeted, and squashed, annoyed and querulous. Friends without time to chat, without time to comfort, without time to encourage, with time only for themselves alone.
Gracie imagined her friends had left without her, without saying goodbye, without a grin or a finger-tinkle. But, then the light returned.
5 comments:
Lovely story... And a very sweet picture. Nice sharing indeed.
I like this story and what a nice pic to do with. The light just right for the story.
You have set yourself a testing task. I applaud you.
I loved the story of Gracie. I shall be back :-)
Thank you. It is testing, especially at the moment when I am trying to follow an election (I am a keen political follower) AND get ahead for when I am in France at the end of September.
Wow. I admire your ability to produce short stories every day within the context of the 150 word limit! Absolutely lovely, what you write here.
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