‘We’re out of potatoes,’ my mother said, in a voice I wanted to mend.
I dragged my father’s garden spade (he’d taken the fork) to the vegetable patch. It hadn’t rained for months; his brassicas had gone to seed and his onions were flowering.
I jabbed at the ground, remembering the pale, earthy potatoes my father had let me find, like golden treasure hidden in the dark. I knelt and scrabbled, stuck my hands in the soil, my fingers discovering only a wet, rotten mess.
‘Rice,’ I said to my mother. ‘Rice would be nice.’
***
This is a 100-word story inspired by the picture above. This week, my mind decided to go in the opposite direction to the picture: gardens and heat, despite my best intentions. Thanks to Emmy L Gant for the picture, and to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for leading the Friday Fictioneers. Click here to join in, or here to read other people’s stories.
***
It’s been a little over a year since my debut novel, Our Endless Numbered Days was published by Penguin. I wrote a blog post about the good and the not so good things that have happened since then.
Claire Fuller 
Dear Claire,
You can always win my heart by going in a different direction. I applaud you for that. Wonderful piece although I felt the distress of the unsuccessful garden.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks, Rochelle. I kept trying to think about rain and bins and buildings, but it wouldn’t come 🙂
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You did better than I, Claire. I had trouble coming up with anything 😉
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Yes, but I’ve been able to skip the last two weeks due to writing commitments; you aren’t able to do that and I know how busy you must be. (Although you could think about having shadow leaders for occasional weeks – I’ve really just thought of that – not necessarily putting myself forward!)
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Rather than skip, I’ve replayed prompts and stories, written about not being able to write, used an excerpt from the next sequel and this week a Haiku. I’ve thought about a shadow leader, but am not sure who or how. But might give it more thought as life continues to get busier.
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Reblogged this on Jackie Cartwright Author/Blogger and commented:
Fab use of verbs and meaningful phrases!
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A problem-solver in the making. Ain’t got potatoes, get rice! 😉 Nice story.
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Thank you. I think she might have preferred potatoes, but there you go…
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Your story moved me. Lovely construction.
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Thank you, glad you liked it.
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Rice is nice 🙂 a year wow! That’s flown by.
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It is! Thank you
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Resourceful daughter!
I love the phrase, “in a voice I wanted to mend.” That speaks volumes about her demanding mother.
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Thanks Jan, glad you liked it.
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Moving piece. Everything seems lost in the garden.
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That’s a nice way of putting it. Thank you for reading
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Funny how a simple, non-related phrase gives you the back story. “he’d taken the fork” lets the reader know that it’s not a bereavement we’re reading about here. Very well done, Claire.
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So pleased you got that, Sandra. I played around with that for ages – wondering if it was too subtle. Putting in ‘when he’d left us’ to see if it worked better, and all sorts of other combinations.
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“scrabbled” — ahhh. Lovely story and great use of words.
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Thanks Joy. Scrabbled is a good word.
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Oh superb phrase ‘in a voice I wanted to mend’ … agree with Sandra that ‘he’d taken the fork’ is fab succinct but meaningful back story – although of course I’m contemplating what dark fate involving said fork has occured😉
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Hah! Actually I wondered that too. Why did he take the fork but left the spade… a sinister reason surely
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Claire, Your way with words amazes me. Here, I especially enjoyed “a voice I wanted to mend.” Wow! Great work.
All my best,
Marie Gail
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Ahh, thanks so much Marie Gail. I love how these 100-word pieces make me (and the words) work so hard
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Me too! This week I’m hard at work polishing a batch of mine for a project I’m exploring–packs of playing cards with a different 100-word story on each. I have 3 different collections in progress. We’ll see what comes of it.
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What a great idea!
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‘In a voice I wanted to mend’ I love that!! X
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Thank you!
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Oh, teacher, thank you. Much moved, but missed “he’d taken the fork”! I thought the voice you “wanted to mend” was bereaved. I’ll pay closer attention to detail after this reading.
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Thank you. Yes, I think he’s left her rather than died.
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Whoa! The memories that story brought. We had a drought when I was 13 and Mom had planted potatoes. They baked black in the ground. She always made me dig them. No wonder!
Fine work, Claire!
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Thank you. Nice when a piece of writing takes you back.
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Very much so.
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I like the thought of “mending voices”. Nicely done
Tracey
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Thank you!
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There’s been a lot of voices I’ve wanted to mend in my life. Nice story and rice is always the answer!
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Thank you, and in mine too.
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There’s nothing quite like the stench of rotting potatoes.
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Or their slimeyness
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You really make me pay attention! Sometimes I forget and have to read it twice.
I always enjoy coming here.
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Thanks so much Dawn, and I like you visiting!
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Claire, this is lovely. The sense of many things ended or ending is palpable. I could see not only a garden curling and withering into itself, but a girl witnessing the same thing happening to her mother. I love the line (as many of us do, it turns out!), “in a voice I wanted to mend.” I love how much you say with so little.
Thank you.
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Thanks so much Helena. That line does seem to have struck a chord.
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‘In a voice I wanted to mend’ – such word power leaves me gaping.
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Thank Liz, glad you liked it.
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I can feel the frustration at settling for something in order not to upset mum.
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Thank you!
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Wonderful story never told.. Somehow I think mother and daughter might skip gardening when pa has left with the fork…
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I think they probably should. Thanks Bjorn.
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This reminded me of the scene in Gone With The Wind where Scarlett on her knees scrapes in the dirt for a potatoto fight off the hunger.
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Not sure I’ve ever watched or read Gone With the Wind, but that sounds like a complement!
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Oh yes, it’s a complement! It’s one of the pivotal scenes.
I love GWTW, I’ve only read it once but I watch the film every christmas – that’s the only time i have four hours spare 🙂
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The story may have ventured off course, but it’s still undeniably good; so rich and vivid, I could almost touch the dirt.
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