Monday, November 26, 2012

Mag 145 — Comrades

They called one another Comrade. They were married years and years and each trusted the other, through happiness and tears. They didn't care much about money, except when it served their causes. When young their causes were manifold. As they aged they honed in on two.....Renovate the brick apartments for others. To have and to hold (one more year).

They knew they would not have a year, which made them hold on tighter. The comrades' days were spent in labor and their work began to show. Their neighbors started a garden, Come one with a hose, another with a hoe, see our block returning! One by one, the apartments were done and people were proud to move in. 

One ailing, one already grieving, the old comrades sat entwined in their favorite red leather chair. At dark they slept wrapped on the floor (while for a soft bed they were yearning).

When the one already grieving woke next to the one who no longer ailed, the grieving was made to cease too. Their neighbors missed their early rounds in the halls and garden rows, so they entered that unseen space. They found them there upon the red chair with funds for burial, and a note.
We no longer need this space or this chair, but we need your hands to fix them. Plan happily together, play music in the air, work hard (then sit here a spell), and remember what we wrote. Create a home for people with books and maybe even a child, the kind of people who might enjoy taming a garden that wants to be wild. Select them together and welcome them well; 'Be Peace' as they say in the ads. Remember that beauty lives in each of you, our dear brick apartment Comrades.

Written for The Mag: Mag 145 that inspired with the above photo prompt (source here).



Berowne said...

A remarkable take on the prompt, and quite moving...

Lydia said...

Berowne~ About to shut down for some sleep and saw your comment. Thank you so much!

izzy said...

Very nicely done,thanks-

Anonymous said...


Brian Miller said...

dang, this is just great writing lydia, you put us in the place, and left us a bit of sadness with them curled on the floor...what a cool touch with the note as well....def moving...

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Helen said...

You did it.. hope you're satisfied .. tears running down my cheeks!

Lydia said...

izzy~ Thank you.

ReBelle~ Thank you.

Brian~ I always feel wonderful when I have critical praise from you. Thanks much.

Helen~ Really? Well, then I really am satisfied! Thank you.

Rob-bear said...

Written so well,
and with such feeling.
Too heavy
for a Bear
about to

I plan to dream
of sweet-smelling meadows
filtered light through the canopy of trees
the alerting cries of the birds,
and tasty berries.
Not bricks.
Not dear red chairs of dying
though dying may be my lot.

Flowers, yes, flowers
grown in a garden,
or painted
on the

Lydia said...

Rob-bear ~ I love,love,love what you wrote here, and certainly do wish you sweet slumber.

Wayne Pitchko said...

very good indeed....thanks for sharing your words

Dave King said...

A quite outstanding contribution, a wonderful tour de force, prose and poetry equally powerful and moving. If it had been a play it would have been greeted by stunned silence at the end and then rapturous applause. That is how I felt having read it. Bravo! indeed.

Kutamun said...

I think it should be all our mission , to renovate the apartment , cheers Lydia

Lydia said...

Wayne~ Thank you for reading and leaving a comment.

Dave~ You humbled me with your comment. Actually made me tear up a bit because I was so moved. Thank you very much.

Kutamun~ Although this was totally fiction it seemed very real to me. Perhaps it is because the mission strikes a chord with me also. Thanks.

Carrie Burtt said...

A touching write indeed!

Tess Kincaid said...

Be peace...beautiful, powerful write...

susan said...

A wonderfully touching story.

Lydia said...

Carrie~ Many thanks.

Tess~ Oh, I appreciate your comment.

susan~ Thank you, dear friend.



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