PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
They stood. Dusted, oiled, ready.
The ink ribbon of the typewriter,
The sewing machine with its feet shaped pedals,
Reams of paper, bolts of cloth.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s for candle making.”
“And this?”
“It twists newspaper into logs.”
“Do we need this whole set of books?”
“It’s about gardening, foraging, cooking from nature in your yard. Yes! We need it.”
“Our yard is a paved square.”
“Right but in the apocalypse we will migrate to someone else’s yard.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“I hear my mother, a lifetime of planning.”
“And now she’s gone.”
“My inheritance stands before you.”
It’s Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle Wisoff’s blog. Jump in on the challenge. This week’s photo provided by Dale Rogerson. There’s a whole lot to draw from in the shot.
My life is heavily impacted these days from clearing my mother’s huge house, packed full of STUFF. I’m under saturation therapy: immerse me in something so thick and confining that I’m cured of ever (continuing) living the same way as what I’m dealing with. That is except on more than one occasion, upon picking up an item I have been known to say, “keep it. You never know if in the apocolypse it will be valuable.” Some mother duck imprinting just doesn’t wipe clean that easily. I think my millennial kids are cured though. I think.
Clare Graith 