Stories from the Writers Cubit: The Rocking Chair by ZanymuseBy Sharon Brown (Sharon) on April 5, 2010
|This short story was written by Zanymuse in the Writers and Words Cubit. The writers were given a beginning, and those who wanted to do so could use their own words to end it. The beginning is italicized, followed by Zany's ending. Please share your comments with Zany at the end of this article.|
The Rocking Chair
"She rocked gently in the creaky old rocker that had belonged to her grandmother. The setting sun reflected on the still lake in front of her, no breeze to be felt, no sound to be heard. From the corner of her eye, she saw a slight grayish movement, over there, just beyond the porch...but when she turned, there was nothing to be seen.
This wasn't new. She'd seen it before on other nights when she rocked in her grandmother's old rocker. It wasn't new...."
Back, forward, back, forward, faster and faster, creak swoosh, creak swoosh, tears running down her cheeks, swoosh, creak, and there it was again, just in the far right corner of her eye, but she didn't look again, it was better if she didn't look, creak, swish, creak swish.
What was this place? Why did she feel comforted here? Why did she know that the grayish shadow was a good thing and why didn't it come into the light and show itself to her? Creak, swish, slower now, creak...swish...
The nurse stood watching her, the Doctor was speaking to those people again, the ones who came every week and when they were done speaking, they would come over to her and kiss her forehead and the little boy would call her mama, and hide shyly behind the man. The man would say, "How are you today, Sheila?" Swish, creak, swish...She was glad they came, they were nice, Swish, creak, swish...But she couldn't understand who they were, Swish, creak....Maybe when the shadow came into the light....swish, creak...maybe then she would know.
It was frustrating not knowing. The shadow knows, she could sense it. Swish, Creak, come out shadow, come out into the light. Tell me your secrets, tell, tell, tell...Swish, creak, swish, creak...Tell me all your secrets...tell me...tell me who we are...who I am...swish, creak...who I am...swish, creak...
|inspiration, short story, stories, words, writers, writing|
|I am a retired Art and Humanities teacher. I write a lot and I paint a lot and I enjoy gardening here in western Kentucky.|
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Comments and discussion:
|Subject||Thread Starter||Last Reply||Replies|
|Untitled||MaryE||Apr 9, 2010 12:50 AM||1|
|yes||wren||Apr 9, 2010 12:47 AM||1|
|Mind pictures||valleylynn||Apr 5, 2010 11:56 PM||4|