The hut seemed so inconsequential now; cramped by the thick ferns and slender birches reclaiming the clearing.
Once, the roof soared skyward only stopping short against the starscape of her imagination.
Childhood summers, lying still at night, listening to the thousand sounds of darkness; heartbeat of the forest.
She smiled, lovingly placing the wooden box inside her old sanctuary. Now, and forever, it would his.
PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers, June 18 2021
June 23, 2021 at 9:33 am
Beautifully written. I wonder who “he” was to her. And I hope that he’s at peace with her decision. :)
LikeLike
June 23, 2021 at 10:15 am
Thanks. I hope he’s at peace with that decision, too. If they shared a good life, perhaps then . . .
LikeLike
June 23, 2021 at 10:19 am
You’re very welcome. Indeed!
LikeLike
June 22, 2021 at 11:47 am
“thousand sounds of darkness” – You are great with word pictures.
LikeLike
June 23, 2021 at 10:14 am
Thank you so much. The picture was evocative to me of nights I’ve spent camping in remote national parks and forests. Even my backyard yields sounds at night.
LikeLike
June 21, 2021 at 9:41 pm
Beautifully written, Lorraine. I love that who/what is in the box is being lovingly taken care of.
LikeLike
June 23, 2021 at 10:13 am
Thanks. I left it open — I think perhaps its a lover or a husband. But could be child, friend, pet — someone she cared/cares a lot about.
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 23, 2021 at 11:01 am
Yes, love that.
LikeLike
June 20, 2021 at 11:24 pm
I want to know who “he” is. She picked the right place to lay him to rest from the sounds of it.
LikeLike
June 21, 2021 at 8:21 am
I was thinking “he” was perhaps a husband, lover, child. Left vague because I wasn’t too sure who’s ashes she would bring there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 20, 2021 at 12:15 pm
Your elegant writing is a fitting medium for a subtle take on the prompt. I like it a lot!
LikeLike
June 21, 2021 at 8:29 am
Thanks. The image made me think of childhood sanctuaries and special spaces. I had one at my grandmother’s under the branches of a weeping willow. They reached the ground forming a lovely green “hideout” and “castle keep.”
LikeLike
June 20, 2021 at 6:47 am
Dear Lorraine,
Elegantly penned. Very sweet.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLike
June 20, 2021 at 7:38 am
Thank you — a very “interpretable” image for me this week.
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 19, 2021 at 9:46 am
Simply delightful.
LikeLike
June 19, 2021 at 11:22 am
Thanks, Keith, for dropping by!
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 19, 2021 at 7:33 am
That perfectly brings back the hopes and dreams of childhood, and the memories of them that never quite disappear.
LikeLike
June 19, 2021 at 11:38 am
Yes, there are those childhood memories of sanctuaries and other special places. It’s a serendip if, when revisited, they still have that whimsical, magical sense of peace.
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 19, 2021 at 7:13 am
Lovely story that reminds us of our special childhood moments and places.
LikeLike
June 19, 2021 at 11:21 am
Thanks, James. When I was young, there was a willow tree at the top of my grandmother’s driveway — the weeping branches made for a wonderous “playhouse;” a green sanctuary.
LikeLiked by 1 person
June 19, 2021 at 4:31 am
Beautiful writing. Light as a feather and yet weighty as lead
LikeLike
June 19, 2021 at 11:20 am
Thanks, Neil. I appreciate you dropping by!
LikeLike