#SwiftFicFriday – Week 83 Winner!

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 83 Winner!

Happy Tuesday!

Bill Engleson (@billmelaterplea) flew the highest this week and takes his fourth win!

You can find him at:

Check out his piece below and congratulate him on Twitter:

Congrats on your #SwiftFicFriday win @billmelaterplea! Check out his flash piece and show him some love #WritingCommunity


Mick stood by the grave as Lizelle was lowered down. A few select friends had come. A few others had declined. Travel was still a challenge, a mental block if nothing else.

Covid being what it was, what it might be, because it seemed to Mick that each day brought a new variation on the message, not that he was quibbling about the fluctuating messages or the beleaguered messenger, it was just too confusing.

He and Lizelle had discussed how she wanted to exit. “No frills, Mickey. I have never been a frilly gal. You know that.”

He had known. Plain and straightforward. Never a wasted word, an extra motion. And her dreams had always been the manageable ones. A new appliance, only if they had the money.

No debt.

Never an extravagance.

Salt of the earth.

One day, a few weeks before she departed, still strong of voice even as her body weakened, weakened to the point that a walker was needed for any limited movement, she asked a favor of Mick.

“Darling, as you stand by my grave, as whatever words are spoken, I would like it, love it, love you to close your eyes and imagine a small pond, a soft green stretch of water, perhaps a tiny waterfall tumbling into the pond, and a moss-covered tower off in the distance, and somewhere in that tower, you and I wrapped in each other’s arms, there forever, our love, our dreams…”

She had drifted off to sleep at that point…but the image had stayed with him, the image and the ever so easy to accommodate request, to close his eyes and embrace her forever in that imagined tower.

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