Ria walked through the dilapidated house with a grace that belied her age. She paused by the ornate French windows and smiled ruefully.
‘This place was designed by Angelo Del Vecchio. He billed by the minute, you know?’
She stepped out to the garden overrun by nettles and weeds.
‘I used to host tea parties here when I was a kid.’
She stopped outside the derelict solarium and choked back a sob.
‘What happened? It was so beautiful.’
‘Age and neglect, Madam.’
She ran a shriveled finger over her parched face.
‘Ah, yes!’
The once dream-girl walked away in silence.
Written in response to the picture prompt provided by Sandra Crook for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff – Fields. Please find other entries here.
Word Count: 100
Beautifully poignant.
LikeLike
Thought-provoking, poignant, beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Keith. Glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Even before the actual tea word came up I was thinking tea with the word nettle – had it a while back and was delish!
And then when the reflective looking back came I was moving with the story quite well – and like the details here -could imagine that window
LikeLike
This is just beautiful. Written with such sensitivity. Yes, we wrote around the same theme 😊
LikeLike
I was really entranced by this piece…so philosophical and profound in so few words. I remember my grandmother talking to me in her late 80s about hos she looked in the mirror and wondered who this old lady was staring back at her. She added that she thought I probably thought she was crazy but I didn’t. It made sense at the time and it making more sense as I start to see her mother staring back at me from the mirror. I am so much like her. Yet, in my heart, I will be 25 forever. Must have been a good year.
Best wishes,
Rowena
LikeLiked by 1 person
I remember reading a story about your grandmother. I think it was about her trip to New York, if I’m not mistaken. She was quite the character, traveling alone to follow her passion.
Thanks for the comment, Rowena. Have a nice day. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Varad. My grandmother has been this incredible mystery all my life and having all these old newspapers go online, has both illuminated and confused me. One of the things that really blew me away, was finding out there was a miniature grand piano on top of my grandparents wedding cake. My husband and I have both thought it was a recognition that my grandfather was marrying her the piano and all that went with it. I’ve never seen a photo of the cake and would dearly love to and I only found out about it from the newspapers. It is very strange finding out such personal details about your own grandmother through old newspapers online. The other thing that I’ve come to realize is that her genes have been passed onto us. In he past, that was simply seen as whether or not we’d inherited her musical talent, and perhaps in the more specific context of the piano. Could we play? It’s taken me some time and a few more generations to join the mix, to see that we have inherited a smattering of things from her, including an absolutely dogged determination and focus, which was just as important to her success as her musical talent. A jack of all trades isn’t going to cut the mustard.
You got a story there, Varad and I’m going to paste it to the end of my post. Your comment really got me thinking this morning as I’m back at my desk with a cup of tea, porridge and my go pills.
Hope you have a lovely weekend!
Best wishes,
Rowena
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do feel inspired – and that is some dress in that photo – and what a beautiful picture “on so many levels”
And nice to also have a spot for a resource as precious as this
LikeLike
Time and tide, as they say…
LikeLiked by 2 people
Indeed!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Some nice developed phases. At least she did get to age,
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, she did. Thanks for the comment, Michael
LikeLike
Dear Varad,
Wistful and sensitive piece. We all age, but do we all age with grace? Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 1 person
Read this somewhere, ‘Growing older is inevitable, Growing up is optional.’ Ring a bell? 😉 Thanks for the comment, Rochelle 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
Neglected and forgotten, places, and even people crumble. Nice take on the prompt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the comment, Shivam.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great stuff this could stretch to a bigger piece. Potential to travel. Nicely done.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks for the kind comment, Ellen. You’ve got me thinking.
LikeLike
Thinking is good 😇
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wonder what made her return to her childhood home. I like the way you said her grace belied her age, but left it open till later, whether she was young and gawky or old and suffering from mobility issues. Her spirit seemed to transcend her age.
The solarium–which i assume is something like a greenhouse–caused her to break down. Nothing shows decay or neglect like the proliferation of greenery in a once civilized space.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are very correct. What a lovely comment. Thanks, andypop 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
We all get older.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The one undeniable truth. Thanks for the comment, James.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sensitive, melancholy piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Fandango.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A poignant picture of the crumbling of beauty with age.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the comment, Penny. Glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Either she neglected herself or had been neglected by others. Which is worse? Well written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Maybe others’ neglect led to self-neglect? Thanks for the comment, Fatima.
LikeLike
Billed by the minute! I love it.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, J Hardy. Glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great story, Varad. I could see Ria very vividly.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photoss
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the kind comment, Susan. Glad you liked it.
LikeLike
A most sensitive, evocative piece, Varad. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for the kind words, Linda. Glad you liked it.
LikeLike
A most sensitive, evocative pice, Varad. Well done.
LikeLike
Time, the cruel one! Nice one, Varad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
To us, time is cruel. Take the ‘us’ out of the equation, we’ll just find time just going about its business per usual. Thanks for the comment, JJ.
LikeLike
She has taken care of herself though, as shown by the grace which belies her age. Lovely story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Jilly. I wanted to focus more on the neglect part than the age part. Glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cruelly inevitable – that’s nature. Nicely done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is the reality. Thanks for the comment and the prompt, Sandra.
LikeLike
A sad story of life. Nicely written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Iain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Time waits for no man – or woman. Beautifully written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Change is the only constant. Thanks for the comment, Jenny.
LikeLiked by 1 person
All things must pass
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ain’t that the truth!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Reena Saxena.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the reblog, Reena.
LikeLiked by 1 person