love story

X Marks the Spot

February 5, 2021 Lisa Tomey-Zonneveld

Shandy sat at the dining table in Clarabelle’s home, and took a long, silent pause before opening up to her friend about why she moved from the nice, warm south to the cold Midwest winters in Iowa. “It’s like this, Clair, I came here to start over for a reason, and since Aunt Cherri had a place for me to bunk for a bit, I decided to give it a try, you see, I came here because I was escaping something.”

“Dear, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand we all make changes for our own reasons, and, well, it’s really nobody else’s business.”

Looking Clarabelle straight in her sweet, soft eyes, Shandy’s brows squeezed with intent, and she spoke to these intentions, “I know I don’t have to tell you my story, but it is a story I want to tell, after all, I find the stories you have shared about Herbie really touch my heart, and, well, I want you to know about my true love, and who doesn’t like a good romance?”

Clarabelle nodded her head in agreement and smiled at Shandy, “well, when you put it that way, I am all ears, please do tell me your story.”

“It all began when I was just fresh out of high school, my friend since grade school, Mason, and I discovered we were falling in love, especially when I learned he would have to go to Vietnam, and, well, I realized right then that I could not bear losing him and I could not bear not loving him for all his worth, and, well, we go married shortly after realizing our mutual feelings and knowing he must go away, we wanted to stay together with a commitment of marriage, so we got married at the courthouse, and it was not long before he had to go away; when we got married there was the marriage certificate to sign by the “X” and Mark looked me in the eyes and said, X marks the spot but you have put a big red X on my heart ever since we met as children, and now you have staked your claim, for that I am forever grateful, and, well, I will never forget that, Clair, and I knew he was even more that one for me.”

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This is my story to contribute to Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge. This weeks word is “Mark” You can go HERE to join us or to see what other stories are waiting for your reading.

Short Fiction, six sentence story, writing

Ribbons That Flow in Meanings of Love

October 8, 2020October 8, 2020 Lisa Tomey-Zonneveld

From the first time he saw her he knew he must touch her curly hair, not a freakish kind of way, but the allure of the softness, the scent of herbal shampoo, drew him to her every day she sat in front of him in 8th grade, and she always had her hair pulled back with a ribbon, making it even more irresistable to tug on the tail, and he did.

Turning around to look at him, she was immediately taken in by his warm, brown eyes, and dark curly hair, and she smiled and so did he, and this begin a ritual every school day; which did not end after he gave her a note in the class, which she held in her nervous, damp hands and discreetly looked inside, only to have nosy students peeking to see what they could see; the note was an invitation to a dance at his church and, “Would you like to go with me to my church dance on Saturday night?” She turned and smiled and nodded, blushing even more than normal, which is to say it was often her cheeks glowed scarlet.

As time went by too quickly, they dated, danced many dances and then attended prom, for which she made a dress complete with a ribbon waste band, to keep the tradition, whether consciously or not, and it was not long before they graduated, wondering if they would go their separate ways or remain together.

As time would have it, there was not enough time at all as the resistance was set up in Viet Nam and young men, such as he was, were sent off to fight the war, and his time came when he went to serve, leaving her behind, tears flowing once he was boarded, so to put on a strong front; tucked away in his pocket was a yellow ribbon to remind him that she would be waiting for him when he returned.

Watching the news became her obsession as she could not resist knowing each and every bit of information about the war, not only was he in the war, her brother was also serving, and it was a very uncertain time; It was just about two years after he left when she received a phone call that there was someone she needed to pick up at the airport, and she ran to her car, drove to the airport and there he stood, holding her yellow ribbon in his hand, and she held their sweet daughter in her arms, pink ribbons in her hair, and asking, “Is that my daddy?”

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And that is my Six Sentence Story, why not give it a try? Just go here: Girlie on the Edge

Short Fiction, short story

Routines of Love

March 8, 2020March 11, 2020 Lisa Tomey-Zonneveld

macro photography of eyelashes — Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Belinda looked out the window, her red strands stringing her eyes, still crusted with sandman’s presents; This was her routine each and every day, gazing to the lands and wishing for her dreams to come true; Closing her eyes, stating her wishes into prayers, she then bounced up onto her feet and bounced into the nursery, letting her little brother know her presence.

Smiling, squirming, hiccupping from his milk filled belly, Cleveland wiggled his chubby legs in delight from seeing his sister, clearly loving the routine of being greeted by her cheerfulness; Grasping him carefully, Belinda pulled him up and into her arms, hugging him while singing to him her favorite made up song, written especially for him.

“Baby Cleveland, cheery boy, you are my most favorite joy, how I wish to help you grow, always and ever more to know; How I love you, yes I do, and I always will, it’s true; One day when you are grown up, you’ll still be my buttercup, never will you leave my heart, you have been there from the start.”

stack of love wooden blocks — Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

Giggling and pulling her long tresses, Cleveland clearly adored his big sister, enchanted by her blue-green eyes, he poked at them with his chubby fingers, before reaching for his own as if comparing them with his own rich blue orbs; Carrot tops matching, these two were like two peas in a pod, so to speak, but there was one thing for sure, they were also very different; This was one thing that Belinda would be sure about: personalities.

Just down the road, a few houses down, Barton was also up for the day, doing his routine of chores before going to school, knowing his homework was likely suffering, he had routine responsibilities which took him away from book learning; Sure to make up for his father’s own duties, Barton needed to see to it that his mother did not suffer any more than she already seemed to, as her sighs of sadness prevailed; Taking a moment to take his mother some fresh tea, Barton took her hands in his, gazed into her brown eyes, moist from longing, and told her how beautiful she was and how it was going to be another good day, all before Barton gathered up his books and lunch, putting soles to the dirt road, hoping to catch Belinda on the way to school.

Waving goodbye to her mother, Belinda bounced out the door, books and lunch in hand and looking about, hoping to see Barton as he always made her smile; Sure as the sun shone, there he was picking up his step when he eyed her, almost running to her side; “Good morning Belinda,” Barton breathlessly greeted her, “I hope you don’t mind if I carry your books,” And with this, Belinda smiled at Barton, handed him her books and smiled, nudging along with their hands waiting to be held.

photo of pathway surrounded by trees — Photo by Vitaly Vlasov on Pexels.com

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This is my Six Sentence Story for this week in response to Denise’s prompt word: Routine

Perhaps you would like to publish a story to this prompt. You can go to Girlie on the Edge and check out the rules of the blog hop. It’s a lot of fun!