Burning my mementos

She sold seashells by the seashore.Once.
Now mementos for my fingertips, boxed and sorted
each telling a story.
I remember her windblown hair.
I recall the sand between my toes.
I remember seagulls high above, a stranded jellyfish.

“I will return”, she said. Her hand was sand.

Promises are dust, I’ve waited with her echoes.
Blind I sort my dreams, despair and hope, like bones.

And then one day a call from her.
“I’m waiting by the beach, I’m widowed, come”.

I burn mementos. Leave, and travel far away from sea.
My heart can carry dreams but not deceit.

This picture first inspired me to write a serial killer story, but I decide against more corpses, and opted for melancholy instead. I guess this is a narrative poem of sorts, just experimenting a bit with expressions… I will be around later, I’m very busy at work for the moment.

Friday Fictioneers is a community writing 100 word flashfiction for the same image. Rochelle leads and encourages every week… Join the fun.



October 19, 2016

33 responses to “Burning my mementos

  1. “Her hand was sand” — my favorite part, so lovely. Wonderful heartbreak story, and to me, much more captivating than another serial killer.

  2. I’m with Sandra and Claire. I was thinking how strong he was after all that sadness to have the strength to walk away. Beautifully written, as per usual (You might want a comma after Blind.)

  3. Oh, what a mean woman, building up his hopes like that to leave them dashed, and then thinking later that he will come running to her when she deigns to click her fingers.
    I love the poetic style. And for me, “Her hand was sand” is the central hub of the story. Well written.

  4. Wonderful poem, I’m glad he didn’t fall for her deceit again!

    When I first sat down to write a story for this photo, my mind went to serial killer first as well… but I too decided against that route. I wonder what it is about the knick knacks on the shelves that seem so sinister?

    Anyway, lovely writing as usual, Bjorn! Great work 🙂

  5. There is an epic, inside this tightly woven little piece. One’s mind goes in so many directions, and yet, not a word is wasted (the word – deceit – alone fills in several dozen stanzas) lol.

  6. I am so glad he walked away. If he had gone back to her that would have been tragic. Loved the story especially ‘her hand was sand.’ Superb.

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