This month I will be participating in the “Blogging from A-Z Challenge”
What is it?
I will be Blogging everyday beginning on April First with a topic themed on something with the letterA, then on April second another topic with the letter B as the theme, and so on until I finish on April thirtieth with the theme based on the letter Z. The theme of the day is the letter scheduled for that day.
My theme will be short fictional (well mostly fictional) stories about women. Each woman’s name will begin with the appropriate letter of the alphabet for that day.
All of the women will have the common life experience of a loss of some type.
I invite you, Dear reader, to comment on how you interpret the loss.
PatriceShe settled on a thin branch at the highest tip of the tallest budding tree. She swayed precariously back and forth in the stiff breeze.
Elongating her neck, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth.
She called out to him, singing the long warble that he would surely recognize.
She waited for his answer, but it did not come.
Her claws gripped the perch tightly as a sudden gust of wind violently shook the branch.
Danger was imminent. She sensed it. Hovering above. Then the whoosh of wings swooping down.
Her heart beat fast. She tried to fly away, but she couldn’t move.
Patrice awakened sharply. She sat up. She was shaking. A bad dream.
She reached out to touch him, but he wasn’t in bed.
Noticing a beam of light under the bathroom door, she felt relieved.
It had been a bad day. Abbie was sick. Poor girl. She had a high fever and racking cough.
Patrice was worried. She called him at work to tell him.
His secretary answered. “Mr. Olivera’s office, can I hep you?”
“Hello Mrs. Olivera,” she said. “He’ll be right with you.”
When he finally picked up the phone, he said, “Did you call the doctor?” He sounded annoyed.
They haven’t been getting along lately. She was sure it was just a rough patch, though. They could work it out.
It was almost 10 o’clock before Abbie finally fell asleep.
As Patrice waited for him to come back to bed, she thought she heard his voice.
It was well past midnight. Who could he be talking to, she wondered.
See yesterday’s O post for the companion piece to today’s P story.