The petal fell silently from the flower, its journey to the floor interrupted by the swing and sway of the draught from the open back door. Yesterday it had been part of a bloom that had filled the kitchen with a wonderful scent as it stood proud and erect in the plain glass vase on the old dresser. Now its colour was faded and the aroma waning. Was it really only five days ago that she had received the bouquet from friends and colleagues at work? Her retirement had arrived so quickly. Those days of work, fun and companionship were gone and she felt old and useless, her life empty and destined to drift and fall like the petal she had watched earlier. Alone in the house, she felt that she would not be able to bloom and blossom again. As more petals fell, she turned her wheel-chair and went out into the garden, for one last look.
So good indeed to see this site being posted on again and with such a poignant yet beautiful - tinged with sadness piece of Flash Fiction - I so adore it.
We cannot stop, because if a single one of these men were taken and shot, that would be our fault - Edith Cavell http://www.janscreativewriting.co.uk/ -updated Aug 17 - with new poems/photo's - video interviews - see PowerPoint slide shows, audio files & my books.