‘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.
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
Thanks, Rochelle. I kept trying to think about rain and bins and buildings, but it wouldn’t come 🙂
You did better than I, Claire. I had trouble coming up with anything 😉
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!)
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.
Reblogged this on Jackie Cartwright Author/Blogger and commented:
Fab use of verbs and meaningful phrases!
A problem-solver in the making. Ain’t got potatoes, get rice! 😉 Nice story.
Thank you. I think she might have preferred potatoes, but there you go…
Your story moved me. Lovely construction.
Thank you, glad you liked it.
Rice is nice 🙂 a year wow! That’s flown by.
It is! Thank you
Resourceful daughter!
I love the phrase, “in a voice I wanted to mend.” That speaks volumes about her demanding mother.
Thanks Jan, glad you liked it.
Moving piece. Everything seems lost in the garden.
That’s a nice way of putting it. Thank you for reading
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.
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.
“scrabbled” — ahhh. Lovely story and great use of words.
Thanks Joy. Scrabbled is a good word.
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😉
Hah! Actually I wondered that too. Why did he take the fork but left the spade… a sinister reason surely
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
Ahh, thanks so much Marie Gail. I love how these 100-word pieces make me (and the words) work so hard
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.
What a great idea!
‘In a voice I wanted to mend’ I love that!! X
Thank you!
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.
Thank you. Yes, I think he’s left her rather than died.
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!
Thank you. Nice when a piece of writing takes you back.
Very much so.
I like the thought of “mending voices”. Nicely done
Tracey
Thank you!
There’s been a lot of voices I’ve wanted to mend in my life. Nice story and rice is always the answer!
Thank you, and in mine too.
There’s nothing quite like the stench of rotting potatoes.
Or their slimeyness
You really make me pay attention! Sometimes I forget and have to read it twice.
I always enjoy coming here.
Thanks so much Dawn, and I like you visiting!
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.
Thanks so much Helena. That line does seem to have struck a chord.
‘In a voice I wanted to mend’ – such word power leaves me gaping.
Thank Liz, glad you liked it.
I can feel the frustration at settling for something in order not to upset mum.
Thank you!
Wonderful story never told.. Somehow I think mother and daughter might skip gardening when pa has left with the fork…
I think they probably should. Thanks Bjorn.
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.
Not sure I’ve ever watched or read Gone With the Wind, but that sounds like a complement!
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 🙂
The story may have ventured off course, but it’s still undeniably good; so rich and vivid, I could almost touch the dirt.