February is cruel, but nowadays it’s from lack of light and not from snow or ice.
“Here was once a bridge”, Jack points at the rotting stumps extruding through fermenting mulch.
“In winter we would skate. In summer we could bathe.”
“Grandpa, what’s skating?”
“I can’t explain it any longer, Selma.”
Silenced.
His skin, stuck to latex, longs for air, it longs to be whipped by icy winds, it longs for snow.
“Can we go back inside? I don’t like my safesuit.”
Jack takes his granddaughter’s hand. Together they head back to the decontamination chamber.
Every month is cruel now.
I don’t think I’m the only one who will see something dystopian in the picture. I see what once was a beautiful bay with a wonderful bridge overgrown. I see a winter way too warm. I wonder of we would ever be just visitors to our own soil.
Friday Fictioneers is a blogging community where we write stories to the same picture every week. Rochelle selects the same picture and set the bar with her own writing, and we often strive in vain to meet the high standards.
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February 3, 2016
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Amazing write as always. I am so thankful you are here on wordpress. Have an amazing day.
Thank you.. I wrote this on my way home on the airplane….
That’s twice I have spoken to you recently during travel. I hope it is an amazing day/night for you. 🙂
🙂
I’ve always thought of February as the doldrum month. Holidays over, spring not quite here. You caught that feeling beautifully.
Imagine if all months where like November and February… brr
P.S. Love that first sentence!
🙂 I hope it works
It worked beautifully.
Beautifully dystopian picture you’ve painted, and haunting last line.
Thank you… I hope it never ends up like this.
I really like the second half, from “Silenced” down.
Ah.. yes when it really turns dark
So sad to have to live like that now and can not share the joys he use to, and watch his granddaughter enjoying them also. The last line sums it up. Great story.
On one level it’s already happening… so much winter joy that cannot be done already today.
nature has her own ways of restoring the balance, some generations may suffer but in the end order will be restored
With or without humans I’m afraid.
Brilliant story. The tone and voice are perfect, and the lifeless scene you paint is heartbreaking. I share your distaste for winter, although for me it’s June-August, (and here in Australia it’s really very mild). I couldn’t bear for every month to feel so dismal.
I like the real winter… snow and ice is nice… but the dread of grey sucks my life.
That’s it exactly – it’s the loss of light that’s hard to take.
I liked your take on the image.. It does look wasted.
Thank you Lata.. yes it did look bad in a way.
I love the last line.
That’s a very sad and disturbing world to live in.
I think it’s April that’s a cruel month… but I can see every month become dark.
This is so good, especially that last line.
Thank you… trying my best to write dark.
Man, you are in a dismal place this week, Bjorn!
Not many chuckles there, hmm.
But superbly presented, as ever.
I have to try some chuckle soon…maybe March will bring some smile.
Bittersweet story – and no, you’re not alone in seeing something sad and poignant in the picture!
I think all of us try our best finding the worst in every picture.
Dear Björn,
You’ve painted a dismal dystopian picture. But the upside is you’ve done it well. As always, it’s not what you’re looking at, but what you see. Your take embodies that principal. Good job.
Shalom,
Rochelle
After writing here for a long time I start to get an eye for looking for an original angle.
An eerie story. And scary to those of us who grew up with bomb shelters!
An additional scary aspect… yes it could happen again.
February and November, they are difficult to go through. The mood of the story meets the mood of the month perfectly, and your dystopian world could easily come true if we continue as we do. Well told, as always.
In my dystopian world every day is a Monday in the beginning of February
That picture reminded me of a lake here that’s covered with water hyacinth. It can’t be eaten even by animals because the water it grows in is so contaminated. Your powerful story took contamination into a sad and scary future. Well done, Bjorn. —- Suzanne.
Oh Water hyacinth is a terrible thing… yes that could be so….
Take only memories, leave only footprints…if only. Nicely done, as always.
So hard to tell about memories when references are gone.
You caught the mood of the picture beautifully. Well done.
Thank you… I need to learn to write happy. Dismal is too easy for me…
A sad tale – told expertly. I too wonder what the price would be for our warm winters. It’s 50 F degrees here in the Northeast US when last year it was in the 20s.
Thank you. I think disappearing winters has already started… snow is an anomaly…
Sad story so expertly told. I like that the grandpa tried to share some of his history.
What a dismal life. I hope we never get to this point!
Being too hot was one reason we left Tenerife and returned to Britain, so the thought of eternal heat is appalling.
Great dystopian story. Could be we’re not so far from the picture you paint here. Very nice!
your story reflects the poignant mood that the picture evokes. well done.
Everyone has said what I want to! Brilliant, as usual, Björn!
I feel so sorry for the children.
Great last line. Structured beautifully – lovely balance of dialogue and description.
No word wasted here. Masterfully put together, Bjorn, with all the details in place and the emotion behind them.
I like to think we will adapt, but it could be the changes will be too fast.
That made me shudder. Awful to contemplate.
Beautifully haunting and all too real.
Commenting late leaves little to say … except, BRILLIANT, Bjorn.
I hope we can pull the world together in so many areas before it’s too late.
Isadora 😎
Chilling, disturbing piece, that gets you thinking. Brilliant
‘Every month is cruel’
That future is entirely possible, hopefully we will have mended our ways by then.
Good story, even though it makes me sad to think about. Well done.