Dear Arlie – picture prompt

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Dear Arlie is a fictional tale about five friends in their early 20’s, set in 1911. While fictional in nature, snippets about these real women have been taken from actual postcard correspondences between Pauline Washburn and Arlie Shinkle.

In Tuesday Tales, we write to a weekly word prompt. Once a month we write to a picture prompt. This week we’re writing to a picture prompt. There’s three photos to choose from. This is the one I chose.

Return to TUESDAY TALES here, to read other fun tidbits of upcoming works.

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With the long walk, the heat of the day and the water play, exhaustion settled in around the group of friends bringing the siren sound of slumber. Millie and Alla ambled back towards the blanket. Soon drooping eyelids proved that the others were ready to join William and Eddie, who were still dozing.

Arlie stood and nudged the two sleepers with a bare foot. “C’mon, let’s head back home. I have no intention of falling asleep out here where an insect is sure to fly in my open mouth.”

The boys sat up and stretched while the girls began packing up the food. On the walk back, the six weren’t as chatty or animated as they’d been on the way to the meadow. The three girls traipsed on ahead with the three boys lagging behind.

Millie eased up to Arlie and spoke softly in her ear. “So? What did you two talk about?”

Arlie answered with a Cheshire cat grin. “Not much important. But – he’s going to stop by Tuesday morning and walk me to the picnic.”

No matter how much Millie prodded and pleaded, Arlie didn’t add any further information.

The next two days a restless Arlie wandered the house. Her mother finally snapped at her. “Will you go in the kitchen and help Cook? You’re pacing is about to give me a case of the vapors.”

The minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock hanging on the foyer wall, with resonate gongs sounding every hour. Finally, the sun was breaking on a hot and humid Fourth of July day. Arlie stayed upstairs so she wouldn’t be called into helping with the picnic preparations. But her door remained open so she could listen.

Just as the clock finished chiming eight o’clock, Arlie heard a loud knocking on the oak door. Her feet flew down the stairs, her hand barely brushing the polished walnut hand rail.

 

Return to TUESDAY TALES here.

Return to MY WEBSITE here.

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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. mhsusannematthews
    Aug 15, 2017 @ 11:57:51

    Love the comment about the insect. lol Well done. Nice use of the prompt.

    Reply

  2. jeanjoachim
    Aug 15, 2017 @ 12:29:14

    A glorious cliffhanger here. Can’t wait to find out who’s at the door. Love this story.

    Reply

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