Milly lined up the pills on the windowsill. The furniture went with the bailiffs. She remembered the thunderous knock at the door – the bell hadn’t rung since the power was cut. The children were safely dispatched to their father’s new house, where they could play in the enormous garden. Milly didn’t even have a window box.
She’d planned it carefully, had her hair and nails done, put on clean underwear. She pulled up the bean bag, the only item in which the bailiffs had shown no interest, made herself (relatively) comfortable and reached into her handbag. She couldn’t leave without a goodbye.
Feeling around for pen and paper, she found a postcard tucked into the side pocket, on one side a view of Brighton pier, on the other her mother’s handwriting and the words: ‘You will love again the stranger who was your self’.
Kim M. Russell, 19th August 2019
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Prosery #3: Love After Love
This Monday I am hosting the third ever Prosery prompt, when we write a very short piece of prose that tells a story, with a beginning, a middle and an end, in any genre of our choice, with a limit of 144 words, incorporating a complete given line from a poem. This time the line has been taken from ‘Love After Love’, by Derek Walcott:
‘You will love again the stranger who was your self’.
writing in north norfolk 
Sad. We both wrote of suicide today. Suicides almost always take care of business before doing themselves in.
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So poignant and sad Kim.
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Thank you, Linda.
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…oh so very sad…and somehow the name Millie fits so well. Oh dear…I went sad too. Hope there are some cheerful ones!
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So did Toni. Some cheerful ones will be welcome!
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Poignant, painful is what this story spoke to me. My wish and prayer is that there be someone there for each person who has hit such a nadir. You wrote this well.
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Thank you, Victoria.
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Oh, Kim. This is so timely – unfortunately. Well done.
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Thank you, Candy.
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My heart goes out to her, to feel that alone.
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I wish society was kinder.
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I agree with the others, but I’m going to be pedantic and I’m sorry. There are limits on what bailiff’s can repossess. Items such as the dining table (they have to leave somewhere for the family to sit and eat) and other items can’t be removed from the house as they are considered essential to a basic standard of living.
Sorry, I did like the story, my brain just caught on that one detail.
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Thank you, Carol. I wasn’t aware of that. I’ve never experienced bailiffs personally, I’ve only heard about other people. If I were to use this piece of flash fiction as a basis for a longer story or even a novel, I would research it better. That’s the great things about prompts – they’re springboards for future ideas and development.
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Little mysterious, enjoyed
Much❤✏❤love
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Thank you, Gillena.
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Another heartbreaking story. Is that a hint of hope or a final despair at the end? Like the ending of “The Lady and the Tiger,” perhaps its only for the reader to decide.
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You’ve got it, Frank. There are several possibilities in the mother’s postcard.
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I shivered reading this. I felt the emotion and desperation. Truly sad Kim 😔💕
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Thank you, Christine. 🙂
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What a poignant tale, so well encompassing the phrase from Love After Love.
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Thank you, Bev.
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chill down my spine
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Thank you, Timothy.
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Wow, more of us diving down into darkness, writing poetics like blind angry prehistoric fish. Mine tackled Jim Crow, started dark and then was blasted with white light.
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That’s the thing about prosery, it can go in any direction!
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Wow Kim, so bleak snd sad – but engaging. You and I went to the opposite ends of the emotional scale on this one.
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As usual, I went to bed before I could read yours, but I’m up again and looking forward to reading this morning.
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I’m going to choose to see a bit of hope…perhaps the words from here mother remind her that she is a mother too? (K)
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I decided she would hitch to Brighton to either jump off the pier or, the happier ending, to spend healing time with her mother.
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I like the happier one. But it’s hard to get there by yourself.
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some do it tough, this is raw emotion and so relatable!
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Thanks for reading and commenting, Kate!
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welcome Kim, great writing!
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I love how seeds planted may later become reminders of hope in our life. Very nicely done Kim!
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Thank you kindly, Dwight!
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You are welcome!
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I do hope that her mother’s greeting makes her change her mind… maybe there is a stranger in her self who will reach out and tell her to go on.
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😉
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Ah that is such a great story. It brought up so many memories for me (the bailiff not the suicide) but still. I may give it a try …do the 144 word count include the poem?
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Thank you, Oliana. Please, do give it a try. It’s 144 words including the line from the poem. I’m off to bed now, but I’ll be up early to read and comment.
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Yep, I decided to add it to my other blog at Tournesol dans unJardin as I am trying slowly to wean off here but then again when things are too personal I stay here like for Dear Emma or for a good rant. This idea of prosery gives me an idea for my flash ficition I wanted to collect and see if I could publish…wonderful idea and great way to inspire writing too.!!
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I wonder if that is enough to change her mind?
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There are two possibilities, Sascha: she could go to Brighton and throw herself off the pier or she could seek help from her mother.
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