WRITING CHALLENGE

Writing Challenge:

Write a story using these five items:

Polka Dots, Circles, Poppies, The Scent of Green, A Diamond on the Carpet.

If you manage it, send them to me via e-mail...I'd love to read them!


And here is my contribution...I wrote it last night sitting in a Denny's, while also writing my play "Angels." It's not written about or for anyone in particular, it's just a lovely story I wrote. Have a lovely day!...Rebecca Tacosa Gray

DARLING

by Rebecca Tacosa Gray AKA Sterling Parker

Today was a day that she wore polka dots. She went to her closet and pulled out the dress, put it on, and looked at herself in the mirror. It was a little wrinkled. So she took it off and went into her ironing room, opened the oak door and pulling down the board. She plugged in the iron and waited, fingering the dress. The polka dots were lovely, the circles a bit faded, but the dress was still lovely. She traced one, remembering back to when she first wore the dress. He called her darling...she liked her own name, Suzanne, but he called her darling. And it was a true darling. One day she came home from work, and on the doorstep was a box, and on the box a card. It said, Darling, I love you. And she took it out and put it on that night before he came, and added to her face a little sparkle. It was something she did on special occasions...it made her face shine. And she shone that night, her face turned up to his. He brought her a sheaf of hand picked red-orange Poppies, their state flower. They took a walk in the moonlight and he made her take her shoes off on the grass. He carried them for her, as a matter of fact.He asked her if she knew what the scent of green was. She didn’t, so he picked a blade of grass and let her smell it. He leaned close to her ear and told her It’s newborn beauty, that’s what it is. She smiled and held it close. They both walked home barefoot. Back on the porch, they sat on the swing and talked, for a long, long time. She remembered the night, the pattern on the wall of the house, torn and faded...and now she was ironing the dress. Each fold became smoother and smoother, and she smiled, thinking of him. She held the dress up, and looked at it. Sighed. Each dot held a memory, she couldn’t count them, there were so many. They dropped into her mind sometimes like diamonds on a carpet...all memories of a man who called her Darling.—RebeccaTacosaGray