Author Suzanne Burke posts a new writing prompt in the form of an image each week and the responses are absolutely amazing!
Each week she features an image and invites you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing. Maximum word count: 750 words.
This is my contribution. I want to give you a little background on this poem. When my late husband was dealing with such a difficult physical decline, during one of the many hospital stays, he developed pneumonia and I feared he might not live until morning. I held vigil throughout that long night and this poem came to me. I remember searching for pen and paper to get it down, and I remember the tears that fell as I scribbled it. I felt that I had to give him permission to let go and…
The shadow boy sat on the sidewalk and sighed, “I lost my Father. He was a fighter pilot behind enemy lines in Atlanta. When Napoleon met his Waterloo; they shot him like a dog.”
Trina nodded sagely, “That’s exactly what happened to my Father.”
Madison scowled and popped a seam.
“Do you think he’ll come back to the window?” The little shadow boy sipped
his tea.
“I think he will.” Trina replied. “Let’s have a cupcake while we wait.
Rob Goldstein 2019
Trina and Her Doll, Madison
I wrote this for the monthly #writingprompt from D. Wallace Peach
Trina liked empty cities the best and this is her best memory of New York.
She looked up, the Sun rose, partially eclipsed by a big black Moon.
Trina sat primly on the only bench on Queens Boulevard when she saw the shadow of a little boy skipping rope.
She quickly opened her journal and wrote, ‘In theland of tall thin shadows’
Then she pulled a piece of chalk from her skirts, dropped to her hands and knees, and drew a hopscotch court. The shadow boy stopped skipping rope and came closer.
Trina stood. “Hello,” she curtsied. “I’m Trina, and you?”
“I am a child of the Universe,” replied the shadow boy.
“I see.” Trina searched the ground for a small stone to use as a marker. “You have a right to be here?”
The shadow boy shook his head, “Maybe yes, maybe no.”
Trina laughed: “Did you lose your boy?”
“I think so. Have you seen him?”
“This is my world. No one comes here, not even shadows.”
“I don’t have a right to be here?”
“Strictly speaking, no.”
Trina found a stone and tossed it onto the court. “What happens when you vanish?” she asked.
“I don’t exist.” The shadow boy replied.
Trina was appalled. “You stop thinking?”
“I think so.”
“How awful!”
“But I always come back when the little boy goes out to play!”
“Always?”
“Yes.”
Trina reached up and hid the Sun behind a big black moon.
Queens Boulevard went black and the shadow boy was gone.
Trina was sad.
She reached into her skirts and found a torch, then she opened her journal and wrote, ‘They sleep without dreams’
The Shadow Boy
‘In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows’ (c) Rob Goldstein, March 2019
Art by Rob Goldstein 