Picture It and Write is a weekly writing challenge, posted every Sunday by Eliabeth, the author of Ermiliablog. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt supplied by the host.
Here is this week’s photo . . .
Evaline Rawston flicked on her favourite CD and sank into a comfortable armchair, closing her eyes as Madame Butterfly’s dulcet soprano soared. Memories of her final performance at the Theatre Royale flooded back: such applauds; such ovation. So many friends with promises of keeping in touch …
Two years had passed since her glorious, thirty-year career had ended. Her throat could have taken no more. Time to cease the hours of rehearsal and gruelling performances, before her voice completely failed.
The heyday of her life was over; the fiery sun of summer set. No friends had flocked to her door. Autumn had hurried in fast, and once the mellowing colours had faded, years of cold, wintry loneliness and regret would follow.
For twenty years Geoffrey had wanted Evaline to marry him, but she’d always put her career first, imagined he’d wait until she was ready. News of his leaving had hit her like a hammer blow; six short months before she’d retired. How she still missed his deep, soft voice, his gentle touch.
Beyond the window, October sunlight played on the ambers and golds. She loved this old house with its beautiful garden; drew comfort from its ever changing moods …
‘Miss Rawston, there’s a gentleman at the door. Says you know him.’
‘Really?’ Evaline said, smiling at her housekeeper. ‘Then you’d better show him in.’
‘Evaline, my dear, how are you?’ Geoffrey asked as he entered the room.
‘Much better for seeing you,’ was all Evaline could say over the thumping of her heart. Winter suddenly seemed a lifetime away.
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