Missing Muse Challenge

Melissa from The Things I’d Tell You posted this challenge.

I'm issuing a blog challenge to my writing friends.  I know that our blogging mojo has been on an extended hiatus, and that I'm not the only one struggling to coax her back.

So - a pictorial challenge.  I love people watching, as I'm sure most writers do. Imagining their stories, wondering who they're meeting, where they're going, where they've been.   I've selected the above photo.

You have 48 hours to tell me about this woman.  Where she is going, or where she has come from.  Is she meeting someone?  Fleeing something?  500 words or less.

I haven't written fiction for a long time so please be nice.  It’s got no title at the moment.  I purposely haven’t read any other entries because I didn't want those influence me. For some reason I had the Beatles song ‘She’s leaving home’ running through my head after looking at the picture. Anyway here it is and I made it with one word to spare.

 

Right, she thought looking around. That’s it. There’s nothing left. The suitcase was filled with her belongings was half empty. But she had her good dress and shoes on.

Tap, tap, tap. Her heels marked her progress as she pulled her bag across the black and white tiles. She took a final look around before heading out. The house was silent and empty.

Out the door, down the few stairs and to the street. The cracked pavement made it difficult to walk quickly but she was eager to get away. She reached the bus stop. She hoped she hadn’t missed the bus but there had been no timetable in the house. And getting out had taken longer than she had expected. But she was on her way now and it didn’t matter how long it took for the bus to arrive.

The bench was wooden and narrow but more than adequate to sit and rest while waiting for the bus. And rest she did. After the events of the last few days she was very tired. She shut her eyes and let the past wash over her. Scenes flashed through her head. The man, the blood, the ambulance, the police.

Thankfully, the bus arrived and stopped the scenes running through her head. She climbed on board with her suitcase. She could finally look to the future.

The rhythmic swaying of the bus was comforting. The trip was a few hours and hers was the last stop. She got off the bus and walked. Her destination wasn’t far. She walked slowly but her speed picked up as she neared her destination. Another house, similar to the one she had left but this one was filled with life. The excitement quickened not only her steps, but her pulse as well.

Walking faster and faster, her heels staccato on the pavement. Almost there. Rounding the corner she stopped. She touched her hands to her hair to check it was still neat and grasped the suitcase handle again. Taking a deep breath she walked more sedately. Finally, she had made it!

She pushed open the little gate and walked up the path to the doorway. She raised the knocker and let it fall. She heard footsteps coming from the back of the house. Her breathing quickened with anticipation. The door swung open.

“I’m back!” she said with a smile in her voice. Strong arms reached out to hold her. She sighed and relaxed into them. Little footsteps came up the hallway.

“Mummy, mummy.” A little voice greeted her.

“Hi Sweetie, I’ve missed you.” She reached out to the child. “How have you been?”

“I been good. Haven’t I, Daddy?” Little hands tugged strong arms.

She looked up into the man’s eyes and smiled. He asked gently, “How did it go?”

“It’s done,” she said. “I’ve packed up the house. The police came. The funeral will be next week.”

She sighed. “It’s for the best. Dad didn’t want to live there without her anyway.”