Diana couldn’t raise herself from the floor, she was too light-headed. George didn’t turn to help. He stared into the distance, his fingers, as if attached to someone else, stabbing the piano keys.
She slipped back into mental darkness where all her dreams; those joyful adventures cruising the world; proudly watching their daughter become a doctor, wife, mother- transformed into a toxic dose of disappointment, poisoning her system.
She saw her husband facing her, yet not looking at her; both erect and tensed neither reaching to touch the other or utter a word; both falling slowly, emotionless into an abyss.
(P.S. Remember I said I wanted to see if I have a creative writing cell within me. To do so, I am answering a challenge to write a 100 -word piece that based on picture and adding it to my earlier piece of “self-Plotted2”.
Please tell me what you think of this! Should I have omitted paragraph 2?)
Daddy brushed his new suit, his heart swelling with pride.
“Get the phone and stop worshipping that ‘idol’,” his wife, Diana, chided him. Immersed in his thoughts, George didn’t hear her.
“Dana, I love you! Whatever it is, tell me.” Diana said into the phone.
“Calling from Africa?
“An epiphany? Epiphany’s about church, something good … not this!
“Three semesters ago?”
“You said you’d do WHAT?”
Painful screams pierced through George’s musing. He spun around. Diana was lying in a clumsy heap on the floor and from the hanging telephone receiver he heard desperate, distant shouts of ‘Mum’.
(P.S. Remember I said I wanted to see if I have a creative writing cell within me. To do so, I am answering a challenge to write a 100 -word piece that contains, “You said you’d do WHAT?” Tell me how you think I am doing. Criticise me, laugh at or with me but please tell me your reaction. I am listening! Thanks!)