Holy Crow, where did the month go? I’ve missed the Fictioneers for a few weeks but it’s good to be back. With any luck, I’ll not have such a hiatus again soon. Hello, again, to our gracious hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who’s always there to welcome a wayfarer back to the herd. This piece is adapted from a scene in my current novel-length work-in-progress, Lily of the Valley.
The Petals – 100 words
Lily dropped the petals into empty Monongahela air. Two for Gabe, who never said goodbye. Loves me, loves me not.
Two for Philip, who’d wanted her, used her. Loves me, loves me not.
One for Emory. Daddy loves me. He taught me bird songs. I was his doll. Dresses, dreams, laughter and promises. A snowfall of petals, one for every memory.
But one petal remained. Emory had been afraid, not for her, but of her, and sent her away.
He loves me not. The last petal drifted down, carried away on the north-bound current. Daddy, why couldn’t you love me?