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Writing > Users > LBrantley > 2010

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by LBrantley on July 2, 2010
"Painted in 1856 by Claude Monet and hanging in the National Art Gallery in Washington, D.C."

Les Promeneurs

They walked off of the main path and strolled along a more discreet path where the walk seemed more narrow and the dirt changed to a darker color. Surrounded by trees, the path brought them solice and privacy. The sun shone through a small open patch.

She paused, turned and looked away trying to hold back the tears. The wind provided a smooth and gentle breeze on this hot, summer day.

Her loving husband reached his hand towards her offering comfort the best way he knew how. Offering comfort to his young, distressed wife made him feel rather awkward. He was trying to hold his cane in the same hand he was using to reach for her and it almost slipped from his grasp. He felt his cheeks blush. He cleared his throat.

"I won't be gone long, my dear. And you know we could use the money," he said in a low, soft tone hoping she would understand.

He had been the sole owner of the town mercantile and it had been burned down during the war. There was hope and prospect of a new position as manager of a large store in New York City and he was going to have to travel to look into the matter of this new career and the possible move there from their small southern town where their families had lived for several generations. He didn't want to leave his fragile wife, but knew that changes had to be made in order for them to prosper.

His darling wife gave a little sniff and stated that she understood. She turned her face towards his. As she moved, her skirts rustled in the cool southern breeze. Her dark brown eyes gazed into his and he knew she understood.

He took her soft, pale hand into his and they continued their stroll along the discreet path until it connected, once again, with the main path which led them back to their carriage.

As they traveled back to their quaint and modest home, they passed the remains of the old store that was started by his father and reminisced of days gone by when work was hard and security was plentiful. Now it was time for a change.

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