Her body sank down 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 grit 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 imagined her mother pouring homemade lemonade from a pitcher she had never owned. Her eyelids drooped, closing on the sight of dusty toes in green flip-flops.
I wrote this to a beautiful track by Neil Halstead – Spin the Bottle. You can listen to it here
I’m writing a novel and I use the 100 word (or so) prompt for Madison Woods’ #Fridayfictioneers as ideas for scenes. So this piece of writing was a combination of novel, picture and music.
I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture, provided by Jan Morrill.