She passed by him in the hall. Her handbag flailing confidently at her side. What made him think of her as a little girl, arms flailing her bucket on the beach? "Unaware," he thinks to himself, like the innocent child in the sand. How can she possibly know her fate? That he would be her death.
Photography by, Diane Powers.
oh, i love the last line...there is no fate until death...
ReplyDeletebeautiful photo, too!
Wonderful images, of the characters and the "fate" and the bucket:)
ReplyDeleteI love your sensitivity Diane
Fate, destiny, unconsciousness, innocence all dealing with life and with... death. Your story resumes some of the most important concepts of our way of living. I liked your post a lot. Wonderful photo.:)
ReplyDeleteThank you so much ladies! It's such a pleasure to collaborate with you!
ReplyDeletePoor :). Great end. I'd liked a lot how you brought the bucket to the story.
ReplyDeleteAnd being watched by him, in the hall of that hotel in the downtown :).
I like how you expanded on the idea :)
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ONE MORE THING
ReplyDeleteNo more supernatural talk, Toots, you never knew what hit you.
More than the weight, it was its bottom edge that killed her.
More than the bucket, my anger. Yoho and a bucket of zen.
She, elegant yet limp in her robe, dragon flame from the mouth of death.
Confess, reader: you made me do it.
wow!!! eric! great one... perfect tone...i will post it.
ReplyDeleteThank you for posting it, Zoe, and for the praise as well!
ReplyDelete