Words From Afar

The hardship of war. As a requirement for university, I was given the topic "A woman digging in her garden and finds something unexpected" and 1000 words to cover it in. This is what I came up with :)

    Powerful rays of sunshine pounded into the earth showing neither pity, nor mercy. Her eyes were stinging from the beads of sweat trickling slowly through her furrowed brows. With a mucky, blistered hand, she wiped them away. Running the other hand up the back of her neck in an attempt to relieve the tension and strain, she allowed her fingers to continue into the curls of her scarlet hair. From the corner of her eye she caught the sunlight playing on the glass of water, taunting her. She grabbed it, taking a gulp. With the rest, she rose the glass above her head and tipped it slightly, allowing a cool, smooth stream of water to caress her scalp, work it’s way down her face and into her shirt that clung to her chest like a corset. Her eyes returned to the hole that she had been digging for the past ten minutes. She picked up the trowel, plunging it into the soil. Her hand jolted. She threw her instrument aside, deciding to use her hands. She scraped at the earth for only seconds before a faded-green, metal box appeared. She scrutinised it; the top of the box read “Maggie”.

   She stared at it, studying the padlock. 

   Why was her name on this box? 

   Why was this box buried in her garden? 

   Maggie’s mind was blank. After lifting the box from the soil, she stood up slowly and wandered into the house. She felt the shade dance over her head, it’s cool temperature making her shiver. She slumped into a chair around the kitchen table, bewildered. Her eyes drifted towards the shelf beside the door and focussed on a photo of Tom and her on their wedding day. She smiled, remembering that moment. In the picture, Tom was whispering in her ear and both of them were grinning like fools, oblivious to the photographer. He knew how to make her laugh. He was naturally funny. He leaked charisma. 

  

   Five months ago - exactly four months after their wedding - Tom’s unit was deployed in Afghanistan. She was forever filled with dread and heart ache. They wrote each other but, most of the time, many weeks would pass and no more than two letters would have been exchanged. Tom was the strongest person she’d ever known; not in build but in spirit, yet she could seldom sense his presence in their home anymore. She longed for him to return.

   Suddenly, she remembered something. Maggie ran up the stairs and darted into their bedroom. She scrambled around in her drawer and finally found the small silver key that Tom had given her on their wedding day and made her keep. She returned to the kitchen table and placed the key into the lock, twisting it. The padlock sprung open. Maggie’s hands were shaking. She lifted open the rusty lid.

   Inside were two things. 

   The first instantly caused Maggie laugh and cry simultaneously. She sank to the floor, holding on tightly to the edge of the table. It was a photograph. A picture of Tom pulling a silly face. That was all. Nothing heart-felt or meaningful to anyone else but, to Maggie, it gave her everything she needed. She felt him re-connect with her at that moment. The candid shot immediately ignited a chain of memories within. Subdued memories; memories that she didn’t even realise she had. They lifted her; they gave her strength.

   She used the collar of her checked shirt to wipe away the tears and, smiling lovingly at the photo, she placed it on the wooden floor, where she too sat. She brought the box down from above. 

   Feeling faint, and with unsteady hands, she reached into it, retrieving the final item. It was a letter. Maggie opened it with a deep breathe:

   Who would’ve thought that you, MY Maggie, would ever get round to gardening? I must say I’m surprised. Although, very glad. If you hadn’t, you would never have found this. 

Mags,

   I left you this, because I know what you’re like. When I left, you told me that you would have to keep yourself busy; that maybe you would replant the garden, or repaint the walls - anything to keep your mind off my absence. But I know you Maggie Porter and I know that no matter how hard you have tried to keep yourself busy, you won’t have stopped worrying about me; wondering if I’ll ever return to you. The thought that I may never see you again terrifies me. 

But it is also the reason that I know I will return to you. I can’t imagine myself dying anywhere, but by your side. (So definitely don’t fly out to Afghanistan... I would much rather die back in England. Less sand there. Don’t shake your head at me! Sand gets everywhere you know! Imagine being stuck with that in the after life, too?)

   Maggie stopped reading and realised she was in fact shaking her head and smiling at how well he knew her. She felt wrong for laughing at how relaxed he was about death; how sure he was that it wasn’t waiting for him the next day, but something inside her knew he was right. 

I want you to promise me that you’ll stay positive. I will be with you soon. Just you wait and see. 

I love you,

Tom

   The week before he left, they had argued. She returned from work to find that his boots had left a trail of mud from the kitchen to the front door. She niggled at him for days. It had only just hit her that this was the reason for it. She felt sick with regret. 

   Right then, Maggie vowed not to ever dwell on silly little things again. There were more important things in life than arguing over a ridiculous problem that could be resolved by a mop. Death was irreversible. She stared at the photo beside her and smiled, confident that Tom would return to her.

Author's Note

I realise it is - for the most part - a cheesy story! It was not my intention to do that, however, I had never explored the theme of love and thought I would risk it. I apologise in advance!

Reviews

[fireblossom]

Though I think you should edit this story a few more times it is a good work. You capture the theme well. Don't be afraid to take a chance...your note above explained what you are up to. That allow us to understand your intent.

Note: When you edit you can change the sentence construction to keep us even more interested. At times it may feel right to lead with the emotion/power.

Here's an example: Powerful rays of sunshine pounded into the earth showing neither pity, nor mercy.
Could be - Showing no pity the afternoon (or midday or late morning will establish time if that is useful) sun pounded the earth with its powerful rays. or The pitiless sun pounded the earth with its powerful rays... etc.

See how that grabs the reader? The power is in the sun's 'position' relative to your protagonist.

Just one more: Her eyes were stinging from the beads of sweat trickling slowly through her furrowed brows. Alternative - Beads of sweat slowly tricked through her furrowed brows stinging her eyes.

What is the difference between leading with 'her eyes' or 'beads of sweat' ? The power is in the beads of sweat. We focus on those beads and watch them trickle down...

We can view a scene from any one of 360 points on the compass. As we move around the scene we will find that one or two vantage points allow us to see better than the others. When first writing a scene (first draft of many) its okay to set the scene from a global vantage point. However, as we edit we want to hone the position we are showing from. One or two changes of perspective can cause the reader to stop and wonder wanting to read more and more.

I took a chance too. You might not like this...and it is just my opinion.

All the best.