Today’s prompt is two-fold. Firstly, a theme: A Fall Walk and secondly, words to include: bird, wheel, envelope.
Here is my response:
Gerald replaced the letter into the envelope, folded it in half and pushed into his jacket pocket. With a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck to keep the fall chill from creeping in, he pulled on gloves and his heavy hiking boots.
“I’m just popping out for some fresh air, Martha.”
“All right, dear, the soup will take about two hours, so don’t go too far.”
Gerald tutted under his breath. Martha always had a schedule and woe betide you if you didn’t keep to it. He called back as he exited the warmth of the house and entered the golden hued avenue.
“I’ll be on time, Martha.”
With determined steps, he walked along the treed avenue focused on his destination. Turning a corner a bird flew upward from its foraging in the leaf litter startling him.
“Silly bird!” he turned to follow the bird’s flight path and tripped. Stumbling with hands outstretched to save himself. One hand became entangled in the wheel of a bicycle and Gerald and the rider crumpled into a heap on the verge.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I tried to stop when I saw you falling but wasn’t quick enough. Are you okay?” The young man’s voice was tense with worry.
“Just a bit shocked. Although, I think I may have hurt my hand.”
“Let me see. Can you take off the glove?”
Gerald pulled at the woollen material and winched.
“Oh, that doesn’t look good. I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“It’s just bruised, an ice pack will suffice, I’m sure.”
“Well you will have to do that quickly. I should come with you to make sure it is not more serious. I’m a doctor.”
Gerald looked at the young man- how can you be a doctor? You look as though you’re in high school. Not wanting to be rude, Gerald kept his thoughts to himself.
“I live just up here. It’s not necessary to come – really.”
Gerald let the doctor accompany him home. Martha, of course, made a huge fuss. The envelope’s content would have to wait another day.
I found a fun prompt exercise I thought would be fun to share. Find postcards (or virtual ones) and write about the person writing them and/or the person receiving them. It can be any era, location or relationship.
I wrote this one: Fate on a Postcard
Justine pushed the hotel information booklet to one side and spread out her purchased postcards on the small desk. With a glass of red wine to her right and an open window to her left overlooking the piazza, she made her choice of recipient for each postcard. A view of the cathedral for her mother, she knew her strongly Catholic mother would love the adornments, the statues and grandeur. For her brother she chose a view of the harbour full of fishing boat, nets and curvy young women flirting with burly rugged fishermen. He had always wanted to go sea fishing but being confined to a wheelchair did not make his wish easily granted. She wrote quickly filling in the available space with her smallest writing, trying to convey the beauty, aromas, atmosphere and the bustle of people in Capri. She took a long sip of wine and looked at the bustle of cafes below her hotel window. The aroma of garlic, coffee and dry stone invaded her nostrils. Justine looked at the last postcard with its scenes of Capri and couldn’t help but remember the last conversation she had with Marco. Now she understood her fear of leaving England for him. A man she had only known for four months. But now she was confident and sure – it was the right thing to do. She paced back and forth compiling her words and then dismissing them. With a deep breath she put pen to paper. Dearest Marco, I do love you. I will marry you. I am here in Capri. Come to the piazza Cordon at eight tonight. Your love. Your heart. Justine X So she did not second guess her decision yet again she walked swiftly from her room to the reception and asked for directions to Marco’s workplace. Timing her arrival at siesta, she placed the postcard on the table outside the small store and walked away to find the post office, the receptionist had advised her about. Now she would wait. Her fate on the back of a postcard.