November. The fog has smothering fingers and my hair is sticky with rain.
I choke while opening the urn to spread her ashes… recalling:
“Can you see the dryad?”, my mother’s hand traced the curve of the soft bough. “We have to come back here next time you visit.”
I had ignored it then, before she declined deeper in dementia, before she ceased to speak, before she failed to wish.
Now I see the face of a young woman smiling from the timber. She opens her arms to receive my mother who sighs as she used to do:
“Thank you”.
OK, I went with the first impression of seeing a living thing in the tree, not to original i guess, but sometimes you just have to go with your first idea.
Rochelle on the other hand always come up with a new angle, and select the picture for Friday Fictioneers. The weekly challenge in the art of using hundred words as well as you can.
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November 7, 2018
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Nice take on the dead and the living.
Thank you 🙂
No one else has gone there yet, so perhaps more original than you think. A nice idea Bjorn.
Thank you.. I need to check out how many dryads there are… 🙂
It’s the execution that count, Bjorn, and this has a lovely atmosphere
Thank you… I aimed for the atmosphere so that is high praise.
Such a sweet, lovely story. Going with your first impression worked well. 🙂
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
Thank you… sometimes it works.
Delightful tale, very deft touch, Bjorn
Thank you… sometimes stories should be told with a low voice.
A wonderful concept.
Thank you 🙂
Soulful and thought-provoking writing, Bjorn, I liked your story very much.
Thank you… loved the thought of something better after a terrible disease.
Yes. Exactly. It’s what keeps the children going.
Wow, that was both wonderful and touching. It left a lump in my throat.
Thank you… my mother has dementia, and these days i remember what crazy things she used to say when she still could talk.
This is beautiful and filled with such Hope. Seeing his/her mother again and knowing she’s not gone, not really, despite that her physical form succumbed to dementia.
I do think it’s wishful thinking, but still it could be a hope somewhere.
Hope springs eternal?
tugged my heart with the dementia and the beauty of living tree
The thought that there could be spirit in living trees to care for us just came to me…
Glad you went with it and then layered the idea
Very tender
Thank you.. 🙂
Poignant story
Thanks
Wow. Talk about wood-working. That is incredible.
I love this poem so much. It touches me deeply.
We just put my mom in the nursing home this week after another stroke. I keep hearing her younger voice in my head, remembering the silly things she used to say, and how she always made life playful regardless of circumstances. She made me who I am — strong and goofy. Colorful and feisty.
I feel the same… my mother is still alive in a fog where I can’t reach her…
But there are those rare moments when you do, just for a second, coax her out of it.
you can’t write a better ending than this… well done.
Thank you …
A story that tugs at the heart stings. For me trees have a kind of magic,
They do… and why not like this?
I think it’s a beautiful concept, seeing a living thing in the tree. You wrote a lovely story from it, Björn!
Thank you… maybe it’s not all a fantasy
It’s interesting that we both went with a mother’s death, although very different directions after that. I love this image of the mother reborn. Great job.
-David
Similar theme but so very different …
a heart warming tale 🙂
Thank you 🙂
Quite a touching piece.
Simply beautiful.
Poignant and beautifully done.
Dear Björn,
As other’s have said, touching and beautifully written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Beautiful. “Before she failed to wish…”. How could he know this would be the “next time?”
You never know… you hope the next time would be different.
Oh, Bjorn! I love this take on the prompt. It pulled at my heartstrings. Thank you.
I like this idea, a gateway for the soul.
I’m glad he finally saw whet his Mum had all those years ago, good stuff
A touching story. Mother’s ashes are going back to a place she liked and where she is welcome.
poignant!
I think dementia is one of the saddest, most dehumanizing things that happens to a person. I appreciated the love toward this mother, even though she was no longer herself.
I felt this was particularly beautiful, Björn… and so not an angle that is habitual.
Your first take on the prompt is perfect. The wording is delicate and tender. As your mother has dementia, I know this story springs from a deep place. My father has illness plus dementia and I miss his voice from “before (he) ceased to speak, before (he) failed to wish.” I’m wiping my eyes now. Here’s to hope!
Lovely story, Bjorn.
A beautiful and touching story Björn.
Wonderful atmosphere, very moving.
A very wistful story…
I liked this Bjorn, quite poetical in subject and language
I think it worked very well Bjorn! A great take on the piece. Very emotional.
“I had ignored it then, before she declined deeper in dementia, before she ceased to speak, before she failed to wish.”
This really made me tear up. So desperately sad to see.