sunday stories

the words for this week's story prompt come from The Sunday Whirl
There are emotional jails too...





she was the storyteller, the keeper of secrets and the author of what -might -be.


It was a role she liked, unlike "dutiful wife" or "quiet woman" or even "nicest friend"


She was known by her roles but she slyly wondered if people who thought they knew her, would be shocked to know who she really was.


probably.


oh my but it was cold today. Yesterday the heat and humidity of the farm curled the little tendrils of hair that escaped her ponytail, and made her imagine she was an ancient healer, living in prehistoric times. As she bent over a fire, steeping a tincture of herbs in a stone pot, she worried about the future for her people.

poof!

 Back in today's world, she fingered the chain around her neck that held a heart pendant. She was given it by an old boyfriend, long gone but not forgotten, back east where she grew up. He gave it to her and said he wanted to always see it hanging around her neck, then he was drafted and never returned to see her still wearing it. She told herself he would come back, that he was  a POW but even she didn't believe her own story, so she eventually agreed to dance with another boy who gave her a ring instead.


she was the storyteller, courageous in her imagination, and brave in her tales of strong women.

She felt tiny though, and kept her gifts to herself mostly. She played her roles daily, and everyone was happy around her, but inside the  spirit of her heart yearned to savor more.


She saw herself as a wee colorful bird, in the jail of a pretty cage, but still with a song to sing. She would call out to other birds who answered her but couldn't come closer than the cage. The wee bird was a storyteller in it's heart, weaving and blending stories that only other birds understood. Stories of great flights, to far away places, places that took the wee birdie away....

poof
she was back again to this life, and heard the rumble of her man's truck coming on the dirt road. He would be hot and tired and hungry, but he would pull her up to his heart and hug her off her feet, and make her giggle as he nuzzled her neck. He would say, you are the prettiest little thing I ever did see, and my life would be empty without you in it...

poof.

she'd better get up and have dinner ready

linking to

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/