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Collection of flash-fiction pieces - most 300/500 words, contest entries |
| Notes ▼ My grandmother’s china hutch stood on the back wall and housed her best bone china dinner set. The one that only came out on special occasions. It was still as imposing as I remembered, though not as tall. It had been passed down through the generations and was finally mine. Although, I would swap it for one more conversation with the family matriarch in a heartbeat. I ran my hand across the buffet’s marble surface. It had seen better days and needed some care, but the wooden inlays remained intact – the carved roses clearly defined – nothing some bees wax and a good buff could not fix. The rain had started an hour ago, followed by the hail, which was now ricocheting off the patio, through the open sash window, littering the dining room floor like a carpet of white pearls. “Water will warp the wood!” I heard my grandmother say in my mind. It brought a smile to my face to remember how much she loved this wooden monstrosity. I placed the packing boxes on the floor and started to pack the contents of the hutch; carefully wrapping the delicate lead crystal champagne flute individually with sheets of tissue paper so they would survive the trip. The packers would be here shortly to move the last of the furniture into storage, but the hutch and its contents was coming home with me. Another generation taking care of it. Just like my grandmother had wanted. |
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