Monday 19/06/17 Daily Prompt: Bottle
‘Keep quiet,’ she said to herself. Her mind racing in a thousand different directions, she knew she couldn’t keep this bottled up. It was just too damn good! And she had known it all along, no one would listen, everyone thought she was mad when she voiced her suspicions at the Christmas party. But she knew, and damn it she was right.
‘Don’t – say – a –thing! It’s not worth it,’ she said again. God, she felt like a bottle of champagne ready to pop. This time she couldn’t say anything, she had proof right there on her phone and she had to keep it to herself! Shit! Shitty, shit – shit! If she didn’t keep this to herself, everyone would know why she was there and how she got that photo, and that was a risk she just couldn’t take. Shit!
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Sunday 18/06/17: Daily Prompt Blossom
“Blossom, where are you? Come on, we’re going to be late!”
How am I going to tell her I don’t want to go! We have been doing this together for as long as I can remember. A picnic blanket, basket and a good book, every Sunday morning at the park across the street. The Claremont girl’s book club; Mum, my sister Cherry and I! She was going to be mad, and I hate the way she says my name when she’s mad.
“I don’t want to go today,” I said quietly
“You’re coming Blossom, get your book.”
‘See how she emphasizes the ‘om’ with a snap when she’s mad, like chalk down a chalkboard, I hate it.’
Begrudgingly I climbed into the car, why did it seem like I was carrying everything, all my sister managed to grab were the books? The drive was shorter than I’d hoped, it was the first time we’d changed the venue of our book club and I didn’t like it. I know Cher wasn’t keen either; we’re both doing it for mum.
We got out of the car and when we finally set the blanket down and took in our surroundings, I understood why Mum wanted to come here. It was beautiful. The fact that there was a line of cherry blossoms trees to sit under made me smile. Mum’s sense of humour in naming her daughters Cherry and Blossom had become family lore, but made sense now. To think her final resting place would be shaded by her favourite tree, it felt right. This is where book club would be held now.
I looked at my sister, mum’s now empty urn sitting beside her, and realised she hadn’t been mad at me – it was just the way she wore her grief. I picked up our new book and volunteered to read the first chapter. Mum had always read the first chapter out loud. This is how I wore my grief. I would get lost in the adventures of Iris Turner.
“Chapter One: Paris –April 1956. My first day in France!” I read aloud in clear, purposeful voice, wanting to make Mum proud. Pausing for a minute, I thought I heard her voice. It was then I realised she was reading along with me, my heart could hear her clearly, it actually skipped a beat – and so we continued together…
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