Still Life with a Peach





 Daffodils, a silver shoe and a peach sit on a packing-case before a group of elderly artists. Thea daubs lines on paper, tongue resting on her bottom lip.
      Remembered scenes flicker in her mind: flowers in a milk bottle, table covered in newspaper, underwear steaming on a clothes-horse by a range. Thea, the land-girl, prizes beet from frost-bitten ground, steamy breath mingling with morning mist.
     Her party shoes had been red, not silver. The girls helped colour each other’s legs with cold tea. Sometimes there were nylons if they danced with Yanks from the air-base, big and blond with wandering hands.
     Joshua was different, his shy smile and teeth white in the moonlight as he walked her home.  She shouldn’t have let him touch her but she loved him, his skin dark, his hands black velvet.
     ‘You have such pretty ankles, Miss Thea,’ were the first words he’d crooned.
      She locked him away; a secret in her heart.

A young girl approaches the easels.
     ‘Best look lively,’ Thea thinks, smudging red into the sketch of her shoe.
     ‘Lovely!’ pronounces the young occupational therapist.

Bored, Thea plonks the brush down and inspects the room. An old lady dozes before a television game-show, another knits a scarf that snakes around her slippers. By the window a dark-skinned gentleman plays Patience.
     She is peckish. Leaning forward she snatches the peach from the display and bites into it. Juice dribbles into the crevices of her chin.
     The card-player laughs, ‘Hey, Miss Thea…not going gentle into that good night? Good on ya, girl!’
     A small idea flares and fizzles in her brain like a damp firework as she stares into his smiling eyes, so crinkly and kind. He salutes her and after a moment she looks away to take another bite of her peach.

Angela Petch

MY BOOKS:


Comments

  1. angelapetchsblogsite.wordpress.com18 May 2019 at 16:17

    Many thanks for letting me be on here. I enjoyed writing this flash piece as I am busy with a novel of 100,000 words and this was therapeutic for me. What a wonderful opportunity for writers. Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Unknown18 May 2019 at 16:54

    Great piece, Angela and so descriptive. It feels like life watching life attempting to paint still life, we're all caught up.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Susi J Smith21 May 2019 at 06:21

    I really enjoyed this story, very thought-provoking

    ReplyDelete
  4. Dr Karimi28 May 2019 at 10:08

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

100-word challenge

Image
Entries for the 100-word challenge can be sent to worthingflash@gmail.com  at any time. The winner will get a copy of the cheerfully entitled "Murder from Beyond the Grave" signed by Derek and Angela McMillan. They also get the kudos of winning the challenge! 100 words is the upper limit but entries can be fewer than 100 words if you so desire. There is no restriction as to subject or genre. You do not have to live in Worthing to enter. "Normal" stories for #worthingflash are still welcomed of course. The upper limit is 1000 words and there is no lower limit. Any genre or subject is welcome. 73,000 people have visited the blog so plenty of people will read your work.
Read more

40 Units

  “ You take forever to order just like with everything else, you haven’t changed at all have you?” A familiar voice with an unfamiliar face calls from behind. A long-lost friend welcomes unfamiliar emotions. We stare at each other in silence because I don't want to have small talk. I know her life ain’t easy, and at the same time, I still fall into the same small talk I desperately want to avoid. Cause just looking at her I know it’s not easy. Taking care of four kids by herself while working at Church's chicken ain’t nothing to even smile about. But I still ask her “How's everything” because I have no clue what else I should say to you. I want to make a joke, cause you know me as a class clown but life is no joke, and I know that better than anyone. Life's not fair in the slightest and I’ve always known that from being in foster care. Yet even I didn’t think life could be so cruel to just steal Rufina’s life from her. You tell me about how tough things ha
Read more

Childcare

Image
Originally published in https://fiftywordstories.com/2023/12/27/derek-mcmillan-childcare/ Tom was a very badly behaved lad. Dick was frankly a demon. Their parents were careful to keep quiet when they were in the cradle. Harry’s parents were forever playing their Rod Stewart records. He was a very well-balanced child. Perhaps if you spare the Rod you spoil the child. Derek McMillan is a writer in Durringon in the UK. His editor is his wife, Angela. He has written for print and online publications in the UK, USA and Canada. His latest work is the cheerfully- entitled audio-book "Murder from Beyond the Grave" which is available on eBay. Check it out. Click Here
Read more