Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
The garden in Dave’s fascinating photo looks about as well tended as my hair.
And the gate is in much the same condition as my face.
Ah well, nobody is perfect.
The idea here is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture below.
Sleep
I wonder if I will ever fall asleep.
The bed is vast and empty without her.
It is comfortable, but I am not.
I lie on my back, my side, my face.
I stretch, I curl, I sprawl.
I miss her warmth, her nearness.
The room temperature is perfect, mine is not.
The open windows admit the night air.
It is cool, refreshing.
The sky lightens, the birds sing in the trees at the foot of the garden.
I wonder if I will ever fall asleep.
I know she is waiting patiently in the shadows of my mind.
Seeking vengeance.
I loved your description of a sleepless and restless night; a result of fear judging by the last line. Well written as always CE
LikeLike
Your kind words bring a smile to my face, Dee.
I am happy that you enjoyed it.
LikeLike
You are so skilled at the final twist. Well done.
LikeLike
Thank you, Brenda, very kind of you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pow! This poetic piece really delivers a punch! The flow is gorgeous, and the tenderness is only blunted by that final line… which is delivered perfectly, not as a blindside. Who hasn’t endured at least one endless night? Nice job Ceayr!
LikeLike
Thank you, Dawn, for taking the time to explain what you liked so much about my little piece.
Nice comment, DQL!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I got the feeling it was a loving relationship…until the END! Nice twist, CE.
LikeLike
Thank you, Amy.
The twist is everything in Sound Bite Fiction, ‘where nothing is quite what it seems’ !
LikeLike
Wasn’t expecting that last line CE. Sounds like he is in love with her but she’s not in love with him.
LikeLike
And yet she is seeking vengeance, Joy.
Thank you for visiting and commenting, my dear lady.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haunting! Sounds like a person plagued by regret, or guilt, or both. Beautifully written poem!
LikeLike
Thank you so much for your kind words, DoD, I am happy that you enjoyed it so much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A woman scorned in some form or fashion. I’m sure she’s enjoying his sleeplessness wherever she is.
LikeLike
D’you think she is getting into the spirit of things, Russell?
LikeLike
The last line changes everything.
janet
LikeLike
It does rather open the door, does it not?
Thank you, Janet.
LikeLike
I wonder if
he is half-dead
and soundly asleep she is
in her comfortable bed
and she dreams of him
longing for her
on her face a grin
her conscience clear
🙂
LikeLike
a neat rhyme
dear Joy wrote
but I have to answer
probably not
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
Good, good, good
by now you should
know to better not
mess with a poet
LikeLike
I am quaking in my boots (flip-flops, actually)
But I try not to show it
I am much more wary of a woman
Than any measly poet
LikeLike
A Dostoyevskian conscience wrestle.
Good piece.
LikeLike
Thank you, Mick, glad you enjoyed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice twist at the end. Whatever he did, I suspect he’ll pay for it one way or another, though he seems already to be paying, before she gets to him. A good one CE.
LikeLike
Thank you, Sandra.
Karma or conscience, if one doesn’t get you the other will.
LikeLike
Something so tantalising about the. Rendezvous we have in the dark velvet rooms of our sleep .
Well done .
LikeLike
So true, Bon, dark thoughts in dark places.
LikeLike
Hard to sleep with all that on your mind.
LikeLike
Thanks for your comment, Dawn.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Longing and guilt make strange bed fellows. I like the confusion in this piece.
Tracey
LikeLike
Thank you, Tracey.
Confusion is pretty much my natural state.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Like Patrick I didn’t get the impression that he felt guilty about anything so the last line came as a bit of a surprise that has left me wondering what he actually did.
LikeLike
If not guilt, then what, Irene?
Sherlock Waters on the trail!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have a few scenarios that I am going to run past Watson. Vengance with no guilt mmmm!
LikeLike
Clearly there is another story beneath the surface. We can only imagine.
Rosey Pinkerton’s blog
LikeLike
Please do!
I try to spark a thought or two.
Thanks for visiting, Rosey.
LikeLike
I wonder if he is repentant – he doesn’t seem it. He misses her but his sleeplessness doesn’t seem guilt driven. Interesting piece to chew on.
LikeLike
Glad you found it so, Patrick.
I like that you found his restlessness fear rather than guilt driven.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on anelephantcant and commented:
AnElephantCant pretend that he has green fingers
His touch with a trowel or a hoe is unsure
He cultivates keenly for hours
Kills off most of the flowers
But he does produce a mountain of manure
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear C.E.
His loneliness and restlessness are tangible, well contrasted by his pleasant surroundings. And that last line? Like a slap in the face. Ever so well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLike
Thank you, Rochelle, this was a rather late night concoction, as you probably guessed.
Glad you liked the denouement.
LikeLike
The guilt eats away at his sleep…
LikeLike
…at his heart and at his soul…
LikeLiked by 2 people