Roses #FridayFictoneers

I came home, exhausted after a full day in court trying to convince everyone my client wasn’t a murderer. Sadly, he was but it was my job to try and get his sentence reduced.

Dumping my stuff, I sank onto the sofa, kicked off my high heels and wrapped myself around a large cushion. I felt like I could sleep forever.

Something glittery caught my eye. Sunlight was falling on the glass roses my husband had brought for Valentine’s day. I couldn’t help but smile, at least somethings weren’t bad.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/02/20/22-february-2019/ with thanks).

 

 

Window #writephoto

 

Pressing my hands to the lattice window, I imagined I was touching the red roses that were blooming on the other side of the clouded glass. I could feel their soft, velvet petals warmed by the sunlight and breath in deeply their heavy perfume.

Resting my cheek on the cold glass, the realisation that I could no longer recall the smell of flowers disheartened me. Sighing, I turned away and went back to the massive bed which dominated the tower room which was my cell.

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/01/04/thursday-photo-prompt-window-writephoto/ with thanks).

Bench

Why does his expression look pained? Write about his day and what occurred to make him feel the way he does. #Writinginspiration #prompts #writing #writersblock Steven sat on the park bench in the fine rain. He was deep in thought and so could no longer feel the wetness soaking into his jeans and woollen coat, nor how cold he was becoming. He had thrown his head back the second he had settled down and at first he had felt the tiny spots of cold rain on his skin, but they like everything else had faded into the background. His mind kept playing that single moment over and over in his head as if thoroughly examining it would lead to further clarification. It made no difference and only stirred his emotions more. He wished it hadn’t happened and that he could un-see everything, but it won’t quit and there again he saw Tawny sitting on top of Harrison. They were both naked and busy in an act that Steven shouldn’t have witnessed. He remembered closing the door and seeing from the corner of his eye Tawny raise her head towards him and gasp. He had left her house, walked to this nearby park and found the bench. He had dropped the still wrapped bunch of roses on the floor, as up until that point he had forgotten he was actually carrying them. The rain had ruined them now and the blood red petals had become much darker and looked on the edge of dying. In his pocket, his phone vibrated with an incoming call, but Steven ignored it. For some reason, there didn’t seem much point in anything right now. He heard a dog barking and against his will, his eyes flickered open and he pulled his head up. On the path before him was an old woman with a scruffy little dog on the end of a lead. She was dragging the dog away and mumbling at it. Steven shot her a disgusted look before realising that the woman’s face and eyes were fixed on the floor, so she couldn’t see him. A wave of guilt washed over him then faded as the woman and dog left him alone again. His phone went off a second time and he dug it out of his pocket. It was Tawny. He hit answer and pressed the phone to his ear only to hear a very tear chocked and desperate voice. He could hardly catch the words because she was speaking so fast and not making much sense. He hung up. Miniature rain drops fell on the screen of his phone. He watched them gather and drifted back into his thoughts once more.