General Non-Fiction posted May 11, 2017


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Describing a place I know contest

The Place of Seasons

by frogbook

Sense of Place Short Story Contest Winner 

So many trees. All types, all sizes. And the flowers proliferate this time of year.

Not so in the fall when the branches drop their multicolored leaves and an early snow blankets the whole place. That's the time when it seems so, real, so vulnerable, and oh, so quiet. That time of the year is still sharp in my mind. The snow falling, the wind shar, it really felt so appropriate to the occasion.

Of course it's always quiet, strangely so, with the sound of outside traffic seemingly obliterated as soon as one drives through the gates. There's a tendency to want to whisper if there are fellow travelers along. The gravel crunches under my tires and the occasional pothole causes a bump, sometimes throwing a bit of mud against the side of my car.

I drive on slowly, alone today, except for my sweet little dog sitting next to me. I marvel at the different species of flowers, now that spring is giving way to summer. I tell 'Snickers' to look at the fountain and the beautiful benches, carved and elegant. He looks at me in rapt attention, always the eager listener, unlike many humans. The window is open, the dog hangs his head out sniffing, and the breeze brings in the smell of newly mown grass. A few people sit or stand alone at various places and a group gathers in the newer area.

I turn at the large stone pillar and pass my favorite Russian Olive Tree. Odd that my favorite type is so near. My destination is near the road so, no need to walk among the stones, and avoid the grass mounds. I carry little Snickers, as not to have him cause any damage. He senses it is not a time for play, and rides limp in my arms. I balance him and reach down to place the flowers, that I promised would forever be here. These twenty-seven years. I have kept that promise. Maybe not constantly, but consistently for Holidays and momentous days we shared.

Sometimes, I still cry a little after all this time. I run my hands over the smooth marble and the design, I drew myself for the carver. I smile a little at the dump truck, artfully drawn, with splashes at the tires, and smoke rising from the exhaust to indicate movement. He was always in constant motion, in the construction business. My, he did love his trucks.

I take the old faded flowers and put them back in my car. They are replaced with the new. Such is the way of life. These were artificial so I don't want to litter in this hallowed place.

I take time for one last look, and maybe a few words. I used to come and sit and talk for hours. That was many years ago. Now it might be just an, 'I miss you.' Occasionally after all this time, and life's difficulties, I say a bit angrily, 'Why did you have to leave me, when we were so young?' But, then I usually equivocate with an, 'I love you.'

The place of all seasons, and the final season, overwhelms me with its enormous secrets. I gaze at the empty spot next to my husband's plot, and know, I too, will someday reside in this stone garden, beautiful and terrible, at the same time.


 

Writing Prompt
Write a 400 to 700 word essay describing a place. This should be a descriptive short story, make sure you describe the place very well. This place you are describing can not be a place in your imagination, dreams, ext. It has to be a real place, preferably a place you know very well. You do not have to have been to this place, and this can be a made up story. Be creative and descriptive!

Sense of Place Short Story
Contest Winner


A true story of a place that I know well.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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