WRITESPIRATION @sacha_black #106 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK10 ‘The Big Birthday’ #FlashFiction

This post was written in response to Sacha Black’s weekly prompt for 2017 (52 weeks in 52 words).

Sacha will post one prompt a week for 52 weeks, and the challenge is to write a story in just 52  words exactly. The value of conciseness for a writer is invaluable, as Sacha herself reminds us: ‘The art of being concise is nothing if not a muscle flexing ‘write’ bicep curling device’. This weeks’ prompt ‘The distance between,,,’ 

52-words

This week is a rather significant week for Sacha because it’s her birthday, so the theme for this week, the prompt is: 

The Big Birthday

Thirty-five years of drama, stress, gratitude and joy. I stand by my students, the ones I’ll miss forever, staring at a huge cake, covered in white icing and topped with sixty tiny candles.

They clapped and I cried.

Make a wish, they said and I did, on my last day at work.

****

I love birthdays, even my own!

They represents a new beginning, another chance to move on and start innovative projects, much like the 1st of January.

On the other hand, there’s always something sad about a year ending. We remember the people and events we’ve left behind, and may never recover, although we carry them in our hearts.

And yet, we can’t even begin to imagine all the people we’ll be meeting and the marvellous things we’ll be learning…

Happy birthday Sacha. Make a wish and watch it come true next year!

Writing 101. Day Two: A Room with a View

Today’s question is: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?

I’d travel through time and space and look for a shy little girl who’s having a hard time adapting to a broken family, a new country, and a new school. She’s six years old and it’s 1965. She leaves her house in the morning of Friday 4th of June with her mother, and her baby sister, who is in the pushchair. It’s a special day because it’s her birthday, but she has to go to school, the new school for ‘big girls’, which she hates. They walk along the long narrow cul-de-sac  which leads to the school, towering at the end. There’s no way out and no way back. Forward it is. The little girl is crying, tears are running down her cheeks because she wants to stay with her mother and her sister, but there’s no turning around. Move on Lucy.

I take her hand at the school door, gently, and I speak to her, softly. As we walk into the overbearing building I tell her not to worry because ‘in the end’ everything will be all right. Her life won’t be a bed of roses, but she’ll be mostly happy, and mostly healthy, and she won’t have to struggle to make ends meet very often, but she’ll have to work very hard.

Once inside, I sit down with her in the long empty corridor (everyone else is in class), and warn her about the mistakes she might be making, and tell her about the wonderful things she’ll be doing in the following 49 years. I’ll show her a school map, and tell her about the countries she’ll visit. I’ll tell her about the people she’ll meet who will help her through her life. I’ll also tell her about those she’ll meet but will never know how sweet and pretty she was when she smiled. I’ll tell her to dream, because if she doesn’t abandon her dreams, she’ll accomplish them all.

I clearly remember that day, 49 years ago, when I looked at me with caring eyes, and tried to say so many things in twenty minutes, because I was just there.

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