The clouds hung low and cloying just beyond the window creating a blanket to smother the light from the tiny box room. The lemon yellow walls fought to brighten the gloom highlighting the cavorting bears along the border. Their dance had turned into a sinister war dance provoking the bruised sky into tapping at the window with fresh splodges of rain.
The brown packing box stood in the centre of dismantled furniture and partly packed away toys and mobiles. Neatly folded and placed with care is a pair of dungarees, a small white cardigan with matching booties and tiny hat, lovingly knitted by Grandma. All are deliberately placed with baby grows and blankets smoothed flat with quiet purpose as the rain smeared windows slowly darkened.
JC
I think this postcard fiction is a really good idea to just kick start yourself into doing something; I thought I'd like to give it a go.
ReplyDeleteAre these paragraphs related? The first is very poetic whereas the 2nd paragraph ties in with Mog's 'postcard fiction' piece.