Story/poem prompt from photo 5

[lynnmosher]

I found a couple of awesome photos but I think they may have ended up being a little on the sad side, so I went with this...



Have fun!

[grateful]

Yikes, Lynn! This is a hard one. But I'll be back. Just marking the spot.

[melw]

A job
492 words

I collapsed into the nearest chair and pushed my shoes off. I had been walking all day and my feet were complaining about it. Getting a job wasn’t meant to be this hard. I felt hot tears come to the surface but I wasn’t going to let them spill.

I knew I shouldn’t have quit, but I couldn’t stay at my old job. All the looks from the other workers just because I got picked to be Mr Johnson’s personal assistant after being there for only two months.

I never knew why Mr Johnson picked me above all the other qualified people. That is not until he kept saying we had to work late. He would order in Chinese and talk about personal issues. I kept ignoring his advances, until I couldn’t take it any longer and quit.

I didn’t even get a letter or reference, that meant no way to show what I had been doing. I heard the phone ring, but didn’t bothering to get it. I let the answering machine take a message. I didn’t need another rejection.

“Miss Parker, it’s Mr Steve Talbot, from this morning. Could you call in tomorrow? I think we might have a position you would be suitable for you.”

I couldn’t hold back tears of joy. I had explained to the HR director my last job. He had asked for a reference, but I had to say I had none. I had thought I wouldn’t hear from them. The phone call was a surprise.

The next morning I dressed up with care. If this was going to work I had to look my best. I entered the office building that was so imposing. I went to the elevators and pressed the button to go to level 15. I try to slow my breathing, but I was nervous.

I stepped out into a welcoming reception area. I walked to the receptionist. “Hello, my name is Miss Darlene Parker, Mr Talbot asked me come in.”

“Of course,” the woman stood with a smile. “Please follow me.”

I was led into a room. There was a big desk that dominated the room. A man was standing looking out the window his back to me.

He turned and looked at me, and he nodded. “Please sit Miss Parker.” He sat down at the desk and smiled. It put me at ease. “I know my HR director said there was no positions, but I wanted to talk to you first. You see my sister once worked for Mr Johnson as a PA.”

I breathed out and knew he understood everything. “So he made advances?”

“Yes. Now you must have had some experience, I have a position of a personal assistant here. If you want it we can give it a try.”

I just nodded and hoped that Mr Talbot didn’t think me dim-witted as I couldn’t string any words together. But I now had a job.

MEL

[Anya]

I picked up the shiny black shoes, dropped so carelessly on the floor. How many pairs of his shoes had I picked up and put away over the years? For a moment I saw the last eighteen years of my life in one long stream of shoes. They started with the ever so tiny little leather moccasins his grandmother had made for him before he could even walk, stitched and beaded with such love.

Then pair after pair of toddler and little boy shoes, chosen so carefully for their fit and flexibility. When had I stopped saving them in my memory box? Joggers, and runners, and high-tops. Bigger and bigger. Shoes that marked the passions of a boy growing up—track shoes, rugby cleats, hiking boots. Did roller blades count as shoes? No matter, I’d picked them up too.

And now, finally, the shiny black dress shoes he’d worn with his tuxedo last night. The boys looking so handsome, the girls in their pretty dresses and high heels, laughing, the parents frantically capturing the moment with camera and camcorder. Graduation. To his eternal embarrassment, I’d cried. But you’re supposed to mourn endings, aren’t you? Even if you’re also celebrating a beginning.

He’d boarded the bus to the party, and danced all night in his shiny black shoes. Come home, tired, happy, dropping shoes and clothes and curling up in his bed. I picked up the shoes and put them away. Then I sat for a minute, and watched him, his face so peaceful in sleep. I tucked the quilt up around his shoulders. Then I got the shiny black shoes, and I put them back on the floor. From now on, I have to remember. Grown men put their own shoes away.

[Annette Agenllo]

Even the way they sat in the closet made the shoes look like they wanted to dance. They missed their glory years with Nicholas Dial dancing his way through the Korean war, and Vietnam, and all the outer places the USO had gone. Even though Dial had never been a big head liner but he had been a faithful warrior in grease paint. If those shoes could talk they could tell you stories.

“Nick you’re on in ten minutes,” Marty said. Marty kept everyone on track. Nick finished putting on his shoes. If he played his cards right those ten minutes would enough time to talk that back up singer into a date.

“Hey baby, you’re looking good today!”

“I have to be on soon, don’t you have something to do yourself?”
“We have a few minutes to tell each other how much we mean to one another.”

“What a jerk,” Lulu mumbled as she hurried away. Women always hurried away from Nick. I do my best, his dancing is wonderful but his way with women was always missing a step. The song was ending, time to dance Nick can do that with our help. Yes we danced everywhere the USO took us. The left shoe went down and the right propped against it as the settled down in a jaunty pose against it.

224 words

[lynnmosher]

You guys are great! I love these, very innovative. I've got one rolling around in my head if I have time to do it. Thumbs up !thumbsup!

[Anya]

This is fun! I wonder if there's a photo out there that's so minimilist you couldn't end up with a bunch of different stories/poems? I suspect not. :)

[Annette Agenllo]

Anything can get hundreds of different responses. I used to be very active in Faithwriters.com and they used one word prompts. You would be amazed how many different ways people got from a single word.

[lynnmosher]

Okay. Here's mine. I combined a couple of stories I had heard and spun them together. I know, I went over the 500 limit.

The Shoes
Words: 544

The dark gray skies overhead threatened an early snow. Rushing shoppers, all bundled up to ward off the cold, crowded the sidewalks, lost in their to-do list for Thanksgiving. Oblivious to their surroundings, no one noticed a small, shivering boy standing in front of the shoe store, his nose pressed against the window, barely dressed and only flip-flops on his dirty feet.

However, one man did see him and stopped, dead still in his tracks, causing others to bump into him. He didn’t notice the bumps and grumblings, but he did notice the small boy because he had a son about the same age. Thinking how he would feel if this were his son standing there, barely clothed, the man…

Sliding up next to the boy, the man stood there for a moment, and then said, “They have some nice shoes here, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” came the soft reply.

“Which ones do you like?”

“That pair over there…the cool running ones.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you can run fast, can’t you?”

“Yes sir. I sure can. Like the wind!”

“You know, I have a little boy just about your age.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll bet he has shoes like that.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he does. But I have an idea.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“How ‘bout I take you into the store and buy you that pair of shoes?”

The boy stood there motionless for a moment. Then, with tears in his eyes, he looked up at the man. “You want to buy me shoes?”

“I sure do. Your feet must be freezing and I’d love to buy them for you.”

The boy couldn’t even answer. The man took the boy by the hand and walked into the store. Finding the manager, the man described the pair of shoes and asked the manager to please get a pair in the boy’s size and some socks. Then, he said he and the boy would be in the restroom and would he please bring the shoes and socks in there.

The manager gathered the shoes and socks and, upon entering the men’s restroom, found the man on his knees washing the young boy’s feet.

“Can’t stick dirty feet into clean, new socks and shoes, now can we?”

The young boy just stared as the man lovingly washed away all the accumulated dirt and gently dried his feet.

Feeling he was intruding on a very special moment, the manager quietly placed the shoes and socks on the floor without saying a word.

After the man place the socks and shoes on the boy’s feet, he stood up and, with hands on his hips, said, “Okay. Let’s see how they look. Walk around.”

The little boy couldn’t move. His feet felt glued to the floor. He looked up, tears now streaming down his little face, and said, “Mister, are you Jesus?”

The boy’s words took the man’s breath away. So overcome with emotion, the man could barely speak. Finally, he muttered, “No, son, I’m not. But I know Him very well. And this is a gift from Him.”

“This is the greatest Thanksgiving ever. Would you tell Jesus thank you for me?”

“Well, let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you how you can do that yourself.”

[lynnmosher]

I think mine was the kiss of death to the thread. Will have to look for another photo!

[Mona]

There is a story in these shoes,
if only they could talk,
they'd tell you of a busy man
and all the miles he's walked.
It seems to others that he feels
he got it all together,
but that's not true, he does,
what he needs to do
in all kinds of weather.
Faithfully, everyday, he rises early
showers and shaves, and leaves
his home, there's kids to raise.
The place he goes is often full
of hostility, demanding customers
and clients, no place for solitude
and ease.
What he waits for all the day,
his joy at the end of the tunnel,
is to go back home,
kick off these shoes and
evaporate to the
'no thoughts' zone.
But waiting there silently
are these shoes, for tomorrow.

[lynnmosher]

Oh, I love your take on the shoes! Great! !thumbsup!

[harboredhope]

Standing in line for my coffee
Walking three blocks for the bus
Holding the loop, no room to sit
Running between the rain drops.

With such a bad start to this day
All will assume me a grump
But they do not know my secret
These shoes are heaven on earth!!

[lynnmosher]

LOL! Great take on the shoes! Thanks for your piece.

[JayBee]

:) hope I'm not to late

Just A Pair Of Shoes

Just a pair of shoes
standing empty, still,
waiting for the moment
to do the masters will.

To take him where he needs to go
To ease the pounding pavements flow
protect his feet so he will know
the comfort I can give.

but if he chooses now to wear
some other fancy, newer pair,
I’ll rest a while and not despair
then when he uses me, I’ll live.

[lynnmosher]

Cool, JayBee! I loved this. When I started reading, since it was Memorial Day, I expected the empty shoes to belong to a soldier. Would make for a great poem, wouldn't it? !thumbsup!

[Scotsman]

I think mine was the kiss of death to the thread. Will have to look for another photo!

Kiss of death? Lynn, who, pray tell, can write with tears in their eyes?

The Shoes is a powerful story from an awesome writer.

[lynnmosher]

Aw, thank you, my special friend! You're always my great cheerleader!