SKYLIGHT
Every day Martha slaved in the kitchen, the outside
world only blue sky, scudding clouds, or rain clattering like pebbles. In
winter, snow masked the light, reducing her prison to Stygian gloom.
Her mother said she was lucky to be warm and fed, but
Martha relished the weekly walk home, the crisp cold a blessed relief from the
blast furnace of the kitchen range.
But home was four miles away, and when she twisted her
ankle on an icy puddle she was alone. They found her the next morning, her
hands frozen around a hambone she had stolen for her mother.
.....................................................................................................................This week's story is another hurried one. I am heavily involved in our local village Arts Festival, and have to dash off in a minute to lock the church so nobody can walk off with one of the lovely paitings on display. Also my elderly mother has had a few falls in the past week and sitting for hours in A&E waiting for various tests is not conducuve to writing.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to J Hardy Carroll for the atmospheric photograph that is this week's prompt. You will find other stories by following the Blue Frog from Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/
Could it be sadder? Maybe. If the hambone had caused her death. But this is poignant anyhow.
ReplyDeleteThanks Neil - 100 words aren't enough sometimes!
DeleteA tragic end to a tragic life it seems.
ReplyDeleteTo a hard life, at the very least,
DeleteYour ending caught me. I had such hopes, but it really could not end well. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susan.
DeleteA tragic tale indeed, and not the conclusion I foresaw.
ReplyDeleteYou're the second person to be taken by surprise - what did you envisage, I wonder?
DeleteI like the way you rotate the seasons she sees through the skylight, to bring us to winter and the climax of the story. Nice construction.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Penny, you always make such thoughtful comments.
DeleteA life ended too soon. Very sad story.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, Jade.
DeleteWhat Penny said. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan.
DeleteOh, so sad.
ReplyDeleteI'm not spreading joy this week!
Deletelife can be tough indeed.
ReplyDeleteOh Liz! Such a sad ending!
ReplyDeleteWell written, though
She deserved better. Thanks, Dale.
DeleteDear Liz,
ReplyDeleteTragic story of servitude. Reminded me just a little of The Little Match Girl." Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
I see what you mean about the Little Match Girl - I'd forgotten that story till you reminded me. Must be getting old!
DeleteThis is so tragic... it does remind of the little match-girl.. Killed by poverty you might say
ReplyDeleteThanks Bjorn,
DeleteHow achingly sad this is. The poor mother has lost her lifeline, as well, I think. Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda. Yes, one must pity Martha's mother.
DeleteSo much story here!
ReplyDeletePoor woman. She sounds like a slave somewhere. I gathered they weren't getting enough to eat. Great descriptions, Liz. I hope you find what's causing your mother's falls and they can soon successfully treat it. ---- Suzanne
ReplyDeleteSorry to hear about your Mother, and I am envious of your involvement in the arts activities. As full time carer, those things are now out of reach, but lovely to hear about them 🌹
ReplyDeleteGreat idea, and completing it in a hundred words 🌹
ReplyDelete