December 25, 2146, Seaside Village, Historic North Carolina
In gray stockings and a wool dress draped around her ankles, eleven-year-old Lula opened the door and stepped out of the two-bedroom rambler she and her parents have called home all their lives. Sucking in a deep breath, Lula glanced around the white-washed, orange-roof village. It had been days since everyone had been permitted to step outside but days is always better than the months and sometimes years to be stuck indoors due to frequent acid rainstorms.
“Hello, Lula.” Mrs. Baker from next door greeted.
Lula shielded her eyes from the sun and smiled, “Hello, Mrs. Baker. Are you off to the market?” She asked, noticing the basket hanging from Mrs. Baker’s elbow.
“Ah yes, I’m afraid this quarantine has depleted our food storage. Well, I’ll see you later, dear.” Mrs. Baker turned but paused, “Oh, I almost forgot.” She patted the pocket of her gray dress similar to Lula’s and produced a small metallic charm with the phrase, “Merry Christmas!” Lula stared at it, frowned, unable to recognize its meaning.
December 25, 2156
Standing on the beach by her home, now twenty-one, Lula stares at the charm in her hand, still perplexed, “What does this mean?”
Note: My mom’s family are immigrating to the U.S. from China and they are supposed to come at the end of this year or early next year. They are all moving into my house and these are thoughts I predict I will be having (though probably not during late-night showers) since there will be 7 other people living in my house. I also imagine I will feel quite claustrophobic in such situation.
“There are so many twists and turns in life.” Susanna says, “and when life serves you a lemon, you will try to make the best lemonade there is.” She chuckles nervously while the camera-guy stares at her with confusion. Continue reading “Sunday Photo Fiction: True Calling”→
I want to thank you. Because of you, I met the most perfect guy today. It was while I was walking in the park, admiring the trees’ ever-changing colors. Autumn has always been my favorite season. I guess I’m attracted to dead leaves. 😄
Anyway, I was gazing up at the tree and wasn’t watching where I was going. I walked into this guy with his coffee and dog. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I said as I stared ghastly at his coffee-stained shirt.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, “I have hundreds of shirts at home.” That was when I looked up and met his eyes and was mesmerized. It was like looking at liquid emerald. “Hi,” he smiled like a movie star, “I’m Andy.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “I-I’m Grace.” He smiled again which caused me to drown in love and happiness.
* * * * * * *
September 30, 2017
I want to thank you. Because of you, my heart is broken into a million pieces. Andy and I returned to the spot we met a year ago and there, he told me he’d met someone even more special. I was wrong about you. You’re not my favorite season.
Well, this day just gets better and better, I thought sarcastically as I raced across the field where three cups perched on its wooden stands. What do I do now? Play spin the cup like a circus clown? Continue reading “Sunday Photo Fiction: You Lose”→
I have visited this property once every years ever since my Uncle Billy died. Now, an empty and broken structure sitting at the corner of Main Street and First Avenue, this was once the neighborhood gathering spot and my home. Continue reading “Sunday Photo Fiction: Unforgettable”→