She has a crush on November,
All pretense of cheerfulness drizzling away, as a cigarette-butt slowly floating down the gutter.
She draws the blinds, ceasing to cover her bruises with Mary Quant foundation.
Safe from gossip she sighs.
She pretends that if HE came home HE wouldn’t be drunk, that HE might not be disgusted with meatloaf telling her how ghastly she is.
Alone, with November, there is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles for change; for her to take charge.
She is powerful, strong
She goes for HIS gun.
She’s assured by its weight but today HE comes home …
HE is sober… another day… maybe…
She puts the gun back in the nightstand and tiptoes to greet HIM.
“Honey”, she purrs.
“I smell meatloaf”, HE answers.
They kiss, pretend that it’s May.
November withdraws back to his shadows
Merril host Prosery at dVerse and we are to write a story of no more than 144 words using the lines:
“there is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles”
from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller
This seems to fit with a November image where nothing really happens today… maybe tomorrow.
November 9, 2020
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Not sure that this is the best prompt for me, Bjorn, but clearly it’s working for you. You rocked it. well done.
November is not the best time to be alone, when it’s grey and overcast, but it has to be better than covering bruises with foundation, Björn. I like the description of November as ‘a cigarette-butt slowly floating down the gutter’. I’m glad your story ended better than expected.
Your poem triggers unpleasant memories for me. The puppet master knows exactly how to keep the puppet dangling — and in this case, himself alive. Expertly drawn characters. I just watched a really good 8-episode Brazilian series on netflix, called, “Good Morning, Veronica,” that highlights the dynamic (among other things.)
This could be taken from the lives of so many. Sober and frightening.
I like how you worked in November and May.
OHHHHH the twist at the ending is superb!!! They choose to think it’s May….she should have followed her instincts maybe?
Superb writing. You got the twist just right, spun the story wonderfully.
You hooked me fast and hard, and I love how you went from Hitchcock to Emily Dickenson. Your prose is always interesting. Have you ever written a short story or novel?
I have written a few short stories that are part of larger collaborations. But I kind of lack the energy for the whole editing process.. Some day I will get it together… maybe a mix of prose and poetry…
Wow, this exudes with a tense blackness Bjorn.
Great twist, and tense prose
This made me shiver. Of course, she waits another day, hopes for a change in him…
I didn’t expect the twist, you’re way to good a writer for that. I just hope it had twisted somewhere else.
In this case one doesn’t hope for tomorrow and more bruises, hopeless and living in fear. Take action TODAY !!!
This is extremely tense and heartbreaking. That poor woman. Waiting will not provide the hope of change that she wanted in him, perhaps. It’s rare if that change does come, but when she has to take charge, she will know when it is time.
Intsresting surprise ending. This is what so good about a book or story. You are left asking yourself would i have ended the story this way
Happy Monday Björn
Much💗love
A vivid ballad of love and hate, life and death, totally absorbing in its impending darkness.
Wow! Bittersweet perfection!
Loved the tension, and the woman’s resolve. Think I would hang on to that gun…
Wow, wow, wow! 💝 This is incredibly intense, Bjorn! You describe the complexities of relationships here so perfectly. There is no doubt darkness in November which overwhelms if one is left to his own devices. 💝
“All pretense of cheerfulness drizzling away, as a cigarette-butt slowly floating down the gutter.” That is a powerful and visual sentence.
November withdraws back to his shadows. I’m glad she didn’t shoot him, but how many seasons have to cycle the same path?
Clever storytelling Björn – I was wondering where you were taking us – but then it twists and twists again – and I’m still not sure I know where they ended up – particularly looking at the Munch painting you’ve chosen. All in 144 words too. Bravo.
I suspect this is a scene that has played out many times…(K)
What a creep – she could have at least pistol-whipped him and shoved his face in the meatloaf! Beautifully done, though. Leaves me hoping she’ll make it out, cease pretending that it’s May in November.
A powerful piece, it moves with a quiet dread but then we are taken back to May. Well written!
My automatic reaction is to sympathise with ‘her’ then we get to the end and I wonder why she goes to the trouble of making meatloaf when she knows he detests it. There is more going on here than the obvious.
Nice turn of events at the end.
I’m loving visiting and reading your content, they are always the best!
Excellent, creepy and excellent. “November withdraws back into his shadows” WOW
powerful writing describing so many sad lives …
Oh my, Björn… November is such a depressing month for so many (though so far, this year, ours is spectacular). They can only pretend it’s May for so long. A sad reality for far too many. Brilliantly written.
Wow! This gave me the chills (as in November).