Spring Clean


Spring Clean

A picture-perfect spring day: brisk breeze and fluffy clouds, hanging high against a nursery-blue. I climb the ladder to the loft to unfold stubby limbs of softest cotton, descend to wash away decades of dust in virgin suds.

They’re flapping on the line in tiny congruence. This one, and this I never dared to name. Ignore the idle chatter of forget-me-nots, the brash indifference of the tulips. Attend the bluebells, who nod their scented heads and say, it’s time. And I agree, as every mother must.

So one by one, unpeg them all and let them fly. At last.

M J Lewis ©2016

This is my hundred-word story for Friday Fiction, hosted each week by the gracious Rochelle. This strange and enigmatic photo comes from Mary Shipman. For more stories from around the globe click here.

Thanks to all who visit and especially to those who take the time to comment.

20 thoughts on “Spring Clean

  1. What an absolutely lovely and unexpected idea – laundering clouds. There’s a beautiful image of Alisdair Grey’s in his book Lanark where he describes clouds as like laundered white shirts. This reminded me of that

    Liked by 1 person

    • What a lovely comment. I will definitely look up Lanark.
      Now I didn’t intend clouds on the line, but clouds were there on the spring day when I wrote this and I definitely intended ambiguity and multiple interpretations. I sometimes go back and cross out all the adjectives or adverbs in a piece of Friday Fiction. In this case several clunky nouns got thrown out. Silly things nouns – just tie down the meaning too specifically!
      On the subject of clouds did you ever get to walk around inside Antony Gormley’s cloud box? A very interesting experience.


  2. Beautiful and heartbreaking. I hope she finds peace being able to finally let go. I love how you led us to the theme with words like nursery blue, painting an atmosphere of fresh air, youth and innocence and contrasting it with the dusty, painful memories.

    Liked by 1 person

    • So happy you found those little words planted here and there! I seem to do either comedy/silliness or heartbreak – never sure where these things really come from.


  3. What a beautiful story! It has a lyrical quality as if the words are dancing off the page and into the clouds. I noticed words tied to childhood, nursery blue, stubby limbs, softest cotton. I took this as a metaphor for growing and letting go. So well done.

    Liked by 1 person

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