
PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria
They were the best of times. The kids grew up here. Swimming, fishing and hikes in the woods. There were mosquito bites, sunburn and skinned knees, but we didn’t mind. We had our own little slice of paradise.
I remember evenings when Gus and Ruth would join us under the big pine. We’d stay up all night, drinking cheap wine and playing cards, the kids all asleep.
Gus passed in ’98 and Ruth in ’09.
Working with the real estate agent to put it on the market, I see ghosts of the past, playing cards through eternity.
Babs would understand.
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Word count = 100
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Fatima Fakier Deria. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.
Wow, this was a great piece. It left me thinking about my past, future and present. Beautiful work.
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Thanks. For some reason the photo prompt seemed to be a place where a lot of memories were made.
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I love this, Trent.
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Thanks, Cynthia.
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Reading everyone’s posts, I’m loving how tables and chairs bring people together for all sorts of things. Those days of playing cards under the tree sound like sweet memories.
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The photo does leave a lot to the imagination – we can all fill in whoever we want into those chairs. It’s perfect for FF. Places often accumulate memories, and sometimes those simple memories of nothing are the best. Thanks.
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Beautiful and bittersweet, Trent. It seems looking back on the happiest of times make us sad, knowing that time is passed.
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Places often seem to fill up with those bittersweet memories. Thnaks.
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I really loved this Trent.
Tracey
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Thanks, Tracey.
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I love the nostalgic feel of your story, the remembrances of the past. Sad at the same time, a reminder that time marches forward and we can’t stop it. Very nicely written! =)
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If only we could make time stand still on occasion… Thanks :)
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Very true indeed!
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All the time you live your life, one day after the other, and suddenly you wonder where it’s gone. Very moving story, and very true. It takes a lot of effort to let go.
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Exactly. Where does the time go? Some places just become full of that life that we’ve led. thanks.
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Happy memories are always treasured and your story tells it well.
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Good memories are treasured and the places where they are made become special. Thanks.
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You’ve written a lovely story, Trent. You tell us of the family’s simple pleasures, and you make it even more real by mentioning some of the minor inconveniences – mosquitos, skinned knees and so on. You’re very artful, only introducing his wife Babs at the very end of the story. Beautifully done!
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Thanks! These 100 word FF stories really do make us think and sharpen our skills :)
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Wow, this is very powerful, Trent.
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Thanks, Robbie!
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Moving on is the hardest part of course, but it has to be done.
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As they say, all good things must come to an end.
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This has a really good feel to it. I want to read more about these characters, and of course the cottage is a major character here. Very nice.
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Places often have their own personalities and need to be their own characters. Thanks, Corina.
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I think we all know this… so hard to sell the past… but we have to let go of the ghosts.
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There does come a time when we do have to let it go and move on. It’s never easy at the time,
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A poignant story, Trent. I feel sad when those places leave the family.
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It is always hard to say goodby to a place that is full of memories. Thanks.
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I love your cast of characters, and the poignance of the long years of friendship. Babs, introduced right at the end, ties it all together. Good writing.
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Thanks. I needed to find just the right people to sit under that tree…
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Lovely story. The final clearing out of a place that has so many memories is sad yet wonderful at the same time. Beautifully written.
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Thanks, Irene. Memories do accumulate, even more than “things” sometimes, and the things are easier to move…
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Beautifully emotive story.
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Thanks
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Beautiful. Bittersweet. … Great writing. This is something most can relate to.
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Thanks, Sarina. I haven’t seen you around very much. I hope you are doing well.
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Bittersweet memories. How I love those evenings where it’s warm in the midnight garden and time actually seems to slow down for us.
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It seems we all have great memories like this. Which is good for me as an author, since I can use them for stories like this. Thanks :)
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This was absolutely beautiful, Trent.
If we’re lucky, we are like your gent, full of wonderful memories…
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That is what we are striving for, to have all of those wonderful memories. Thanks, Dale.
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Yes indeed
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The reward of a long life is to see your friends pass on. Wonderfully captures the nostalgia and longing.
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Yes, but you can also outlive your enemies ;) Thanks.
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Thanks!
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I’m sitting, this morning, in my family’s cabin, a place that was once my parents’ full time home. I think, once in awhile, about what it would be like to sell it, when we’re all too old to keep it going and no one has anyone to gift it to. It will be sad, but like you, we will always have the memories. And I’d hope that mom and dad will understand.
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The ending of an era is never easy. This one is fiction, but a few years ago a cabin were I spent many weeks as a child was to be torn down. My parents spent two weeks there and all of the people who had been in and out of it over the years tried to stop by. A lot of the people who were part of it when I was a kid were gone. In ways it was bitter sweet to return, but in other ways, it created new memories for the future.
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Time to put the cards back in their box. A poignant piece indeed Trent.
Click to read my 99 words!
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Yes, time to move on and leave the ghosts in peace. Thanks.
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Bittersweet memories wrapped up in place. Nicely done.
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Places do seem to store memories, don’t they? Thanks.
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Dear Trent,
Ten years ago we moved out of the house I’d lived in most of my life, having inherited it. My kids grew up there as I did. Our final night there, I sat on the porch and remembered the kids who lived in the surrounding houses when I was a child. Your story puts me back in that moment. We all carry those sweet ghosts in our hearts, don’t we? Nicely done. I’m sure Babs understands.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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We do carry those ghosts, and certain places are more filled with them than others. I’m glad this bit of story can transport you, even if momentarily, to one of those places.
Yep, Babs would understand.
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