Friday, April 26, 2013


Another fictional offering from a prompt (If my mother could see me now!) from my Writers' Group:


     If my mother could see me now she'd give me a piece of her mind . . . and it would take her a long time to do it.  She had opposed my marrying Louis, right from the start.   'A dreamer' had been her pronouncement after meeting him.  What was wrong with Kristan, the shoe clerk, she had asked.

"Hush, now, Marie, let the girl make up her own mind.   Louis is a fine man--look at the chickens his family farm raises."

My father was ever the pragmatist.  They had enjoyed the one Louis had brought to the house, instead of flowers, all dressed and ready for the oven.  The chicken had won her over--that and the fact that I was twenty-seven years old.

I'd dreamed of being the lady of a fine estate--paid for by the ever-increasing flock.  Not that I planned to do any chicken work;  they scared me with their beady little eyes.  But when Louis's father died, from the stress of keeping track of the egg production, the farm went the older son, Raymond.

Louis had always resented his bossy older brother and a recruitment poster in town had persuaded him to emigrate to Quebec, across the ocean and far away from Mama and Papa.   The chickens I could live without but what was a good Catholic girl to do?  And now this war has sent my poor brave Louis off to fight--back in France of all places.  I just hope he doesn't meet up with that hussy, Olivia; she always had her eye on him.

Meanwhile, I must be father and mother to our four little ones and work every day the good Lord sends us - except Sundays, of course, trying to clear this rocky land.  Oh, Mama, why didn't I listen to you and marry the shoe clerk!

No comments:

Post a Comment