Your assignment, if you choose to accept it [and I hope you do!], is to pick one of the pictures below and tell us about the person the shoe(s) belong to. If want to write about more than one picture, great!
1. picture taken by @Doug88888, Flickr.com. Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/19cfabK |
2. picture taken by Samantha Davies, Flickr.com Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/13vQl6K |
3. picture taken by Eric S., Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/12G4cUB |
4. picture taken by Zanthia, Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/15a1MAR |
5. picture by dave lewis 88, Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/1305au2 |
6. picture taken by Eric S., Flickr.com, Creative Common licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/12G4cUB |
7. picture by dave lewis 88, Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/1305au2 |
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| http://bit.ly/15a41UT |
9. picture taken by Tony & Wayne, Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/118lCMf |
10. picture by Pete Harmer, Flickr.com, Creative Commons licensed-content
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| http://bit.ly/12agrOl |
What do you think? Will you join me in showing who a pair (or more) of these belong to?
10 comments:
No one wants to play? I'll go first. This is off the cuff so it won't be all polished and pretty, but then, isn't that how writing exercises are supposed to go?
Bubba clutched the black Sharpie in his left hand and carefully drew one row of four, evenly spaced small circles that lined up with his daddy's fourth toe, and then several inches to the right he drew a matching row of circles that pretty much lined up with the big toe.
He paused to study the picture in the magazine. His dad's leg twitched, then calmed. Holding his tongue just so, Bubba continued with his task, and lightly connected the circles with crisscrosses until they looked like shoe laces. A couple hairs got in the way so one of the laces was a little squiggly.
Hmmm. Still needed something. He drew a one half-circle connecting the big toe to the pinky and made little slash marks every so often. To finish it off, he drew two more half circles, kinda like on a baseball, and finished them off with more slashes. For a moment fear took hold 'cause they reminded him of the stitches Mommy'd had on her face last week, but then he grinned. Wouldn't Daddy be proud when he woke up?
Bubba had seen Mommy used the Sharpie to color in scraped parts of her shoes this morning just before she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, reminded him to be quiet, and crept out the door to go to work.
Daddy needed new shoes. His only pair had fallen apart after Booger, the stray mutt Bubba had dragged home yesterday, used them to soothe what must've been a powerful ache. Bubba hadn't seen Booger since then and hoped he would come home soon. He was mighty lonesome.
Daddy snorted a little in his sleep, mumbled and shifted. Bubba hurried to make a shoe on his dad's right foot. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if he woke up in the middle of getting his new pair of shoes and only had one that was finished and ready to wear.
Liked the spike heel on the spiked fence best. Thought of this limerick right away.
Had a fabulous evening in London,
Met a prince of a guy, and I was undone.
The clock gonged, I dashed
Over the fence, oh, so rash,
Left no name, just my shoe, what a dumb one.
Thanks for sharing with us, Joanie!
Your limerick is charming. I have no clue how to put something together so concisely and make it rhyme.
Picture 7
She was ninety-four years old when she took off those shoes for the last time. They weren't fancy, just good working shoes. She wore them to hoe the garden and carry feed to her chickens. She never tied the laces. It was too hard to bend over, and her arthritic fingers couldn't make a bow anymore, but they could cup my face and hold me still for one of her kiss-me-all-over-my-face greetings. One kiss was never enough sugar for her.
She came west in a covered wagon at the age of four. Her family settled in Abilene, Kansas. She buried two husbands and three of her ten children on the cedar shaded hillside just north of town.
She lived through two world wars, a great depression, the invention of the automobile and the airplane. A year before she took off those shoes for the last time she watched on her snowy little black and white television set as the first man orbited the earth.
What an extraordinary life for a very ordinary little woman who like good brown leather shoes.
These are awesome!
My character Vivian would love to go swing dancing in those red shoes.
Here is my sad attempt at number 2.
Muddy water doused Jack’s boot when he splashed through the puddle. If Major Westar saw the state of his boots, he would have KP duty for a month. Dogs barked, breaking the eerie silence of the forest. Scrubbing pans would be a welcomed sight to what the Germans would do to him if they caught him. If he could just make it to the airfield, Jack could add one more country’s soil to the list he and his boots have trudged across.
She stared at her shoes. The crushed tiles beneath her feet were the perfect symbol of her heart. If she looked up, she would fall apart. He had left, leaving her surrounded by chaos and memories.
Exerting all her powers of concentration on the sturdy brown leather gave her strength. All she had to do was take one step. Then another. It wasn't hard, but she must concentrate.
Her body wanted to collapse, her mind, disintegrate. She wanted to give in to the hysteria rising within, but she would not. She could do this. She must.
Just one step, then another, in her sturdy brown shoes.
Aww, Pat. I love this. Such wonderful details. Thanks for joining in.
My two grandmas lived into their 90s. I wish they'd been the huggy-kissy type. I am, but boy is hard to get hugs sometimes from my grandkiddoes.
I loved those red shoes, too, Melissa! A start of a scene about a character named Marta who had the red shoes came to me as I was drifting off to sleep last night. Much of it has faded.
And I disagree re: Jack's boots. Not a poor attempt at all. Excellent details. Thanks for playing.
Oh, Becky, what a powerful piece. Made my heart hurt for her. Thank you to contributing to the exercise.
You all did a tremendously great job with the photos! Even though I'm visual, I work backward. Idea first, then a hunt for the picture that conveys it. I don't know why, except I've always been a bit backward. Must have been something in my childhood. ;)
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