Passions in Prose |
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There is a Story |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart ![]() |
There is a Story There, in the closeness of the cottonwood walls and mud packings, in dim light of oil lamp, in the chill of the dirt, overhead, fresh spring grasses already blooming and roots pushing through her overhead, she realized, she was home. She looked around this home he had fashioned, from the vast range of prairie, near the river, with so little to work from. Cottonwoods were native along the river’s bank, some elm grew, of course, but dirt was the most available for soddys. And look, he had placed a small piece of mirror over the wash table, and a new pitcher and washbowl of white and blue ceramic became a center point of light. Several furs hung from the walls, drying, soon to be sold in the young, new town. A small treadle stood in the corner, opposite the pot-bellied stove. A cord of rope separate the room, overhead, ready for many useful reasons. A sheet was already hung from one end of the rope, pulled together and held with a fresh cut of ivy, waiting. A large dark fur covered the small bed, and she smiled, knowing. Knowing. She was warm in heart, conscious that in this, the new territory, the novel dreams of her husband, the fresh start of their lives, all of this lay before the two of them. She smiled, turned, and looked up at him. Her hand touched the table he had fashioned from older cottonwood limbs, thick of limb, both he and the legs upon which the table stood, she smiled a wonderful smile into his face, and said, “I promise to make you proud.” He took his place beside her, in front of her, pulled her body to him, and whispered quietly, “I already am.” She took his hand and held it up, between them, then closed in on it, her breast touch his hand, her hand, his chest. She smiled, touched his lips with hers, and sealed the future. Theirs is a story. |
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© Copyright 2001 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
AniKay83 Member
since 2000-06-28
Posts 388Missing Since 1999 |
I've never written prose before myself, but I really enjoyed this. Thanks for the read. ~Krissie Which one is me, and what is mine? Of words we get and words we steal and make our own through passing time, which ones are false and which are real? from Nylonroses~Alexander G. Rubio~ [This message has been edited by AniKay83 (edited 06-20-2001).] |
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Interloper![]() ![]()
since 2000-11-06
Posts 8369Deep in the heart |
Wonderful read and a better write. |
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kitkat Senior Member
since 2000-01-11
Posts 878Nova Scotia |
and a lovely story it is. -------------- |
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shadow974 Senior Member
since 2001-06-21
Posts 636Michigan |
Loves what counts, some say that's all that counts. Well, I know it's number one in my book. Fantastic story. I loved it! |
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Janette![]()
since 2001-07-20
Posts 2843Chicagoland for now |
Oh you have painted such a lovely word picture here...a soddy on the prairie. Very nice indeed. I like it! |
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wpwpoet Member
since 2001-07-25
Posts 99 |
the dream that I pray to be. |
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Constance Member
since 2001-07-28
Posts 393Ohio |
So sweet and nostalgic. You transported me. This is such a pleasant read. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Karilea--I could see it all..and feel the way they felt. That is what makes this scene so well done. Loved it! (PS...more!) |
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