Her body sank to the cobbles, each bony vertebra grazing skin against whitewashed wall. In slow motion she slid sideways into the shade, eyes glassy and the taste of dirt and leather in her mouth from a million sandals that had trod the alley before her. It was empty now, everyone indoors – away from the midday sun. As sleep, or something greater overtook her, she saw her mother pouring homemade lemonade from a pitcher she had never owned.
This is a Friday Fictioneers story. A re-run (because it’s summer and we’re all busy) of an FF story I wrote in 2012. It became a (much altered) crucial scene in the novel I was writing at the time, which became Our Endless Numbered Days, and when it was finished was bought by Penguin (and others), and published in 2015. Just goes to show that these pieces of flash fiction sometimes go on to have much longer lives than we ever imagine when first writing them. Join in, or read others.
Last week I revealed the UK, US and Canadian covers for my next book, Swimming Lessons. Click here, for the big pictures.
It became the scene where Peggy finds the German village, near the end of the book. As I said, much changed – but the inspiration was this story.
Tense scene. The drag of the bones is a visceral touch.
I love the thought of reusing scenes into novels… so much to love in a scene like this, all those open ends that can be fit into a narrative… and yes I guess it had to be changed a bit to fit your novel’s place and time.
Such a vivid scene, I stood there, watching her. Great work, as usual.
I love ‘the taste of dirt and leather in her mouth from a million sandals…’ It’s a description that really stays with you! My mouth gets dry just thinking about it!
Thank Thom – I’m sure it doesn’t taste nice.
The drag of the bones gave me a pain in my spine. This is mysterious, graphic, and beautifully written.
What a great fragment of a story. I’ll have to check out the longer version at some point soon.
One never knows when inspiration will strike. This little girl must have nudged you in the right (write) direction. Great tale. Vivid prose.
Yes. I love how writing works like that.
‘never owned’ has my mind going in all sorts of places.
Me too. I can’t explain what she means.
I liked that ‘taste of a million sandals’ line. Pretty good stuff here, Claire!
Really enjoyed hearing about the evolution of this piece – fascinating insight!
The ‘pitcher she had never owned’ has aroused interest. I often dream of houses where I’ve never actually lived – apparently quite common.
And that cover is beautiful – very striking.
Ooh, dreaming of a house you’ve never lived in. I like that.
That’s what every writer likes to hear. Thanks Alicia.
I am so glad you chose to reshare. This is a powerful picture and I love the welcoming arms of oblivion that you create here.
I saw her die of heatstroke, but apparently I was wrong. 🙂 Great setting of the scene with all the senses involved.
I don’t know. I think you could be right.
A great scene–pulls all of our senses as it builds tension to the final image that she sees only in her mind’s eye.
I could feel the rough plastered wall against her back, and the taste of sandals was a touch of genius.
Ahh, thanks Liz. I wasn’t sure that would work – who know what sandals taste like?!
An interesting thought that a novel should stem from this mysterious piece.
Wonderfully evocative. I’m in there with her all the way down the wall as she slides to the ground. And the enigmatic ending leads to all sorts of possibilities.
Claire, I’m so incredibly excited for you, with your 2nd book coming! It seems like not long ago at all, that we were exchanging messages about getting published, being mid’ish aged 😉 and the challenges of both. You know I’m a huge fan of OEND; I can’t wait to read the next!
While I understood most of what was happening here, I found myself a bit lost–– something that rarely happens when I read your work. Not sure what it was, but the first line had me stuck a bit. Is it cobble stone? Or, does cobble refer to something I’m missing? The final line “she saw her mother pouring homemade lemonade from a pitcher she had never owned” is perfection.