In Her Wake

They fed each other cured walnuts she’d gathered from the woods last fall, breaking the hard exterior beneath the blows of a hammer stolen from her father’s toolbox and prying out their broken hearts with a pick.

Hand in hand, they walked the pristine lawn, dull blades of grass succumbing to their bare and tender feet. “Look.” He pointed.

She stopped and paused where the mower blades had scraped away the rough roots of the oak tree, two hundred years old, according to local lore, and struck by lightening twice. There was a gap in the trunk, where she used to secret her treasures: Notes from old boyfriends. A journal she needed to hide from her brother. Cash for the time she considered running away. Now, she stuck her hand in the gap and withdrew a plastic bag.

“What’s that?”

She turned and stuffed the bag in her pocket. “Nothing.” She stared at the roots of the tree, imagining the blades of the mower endlessly chasing after themselves, head over heels until they stumbled upon a knot of wood and choked and had to back up and take a new path.

“I love you,” he said.

She reached a hand in her pocket. Felt for the familiar bag, pressed her thumb against the shape, tracing the thin hollow circle again and again.

She had stumbled. “I love someone else.”

She turned and walked again towards home, leaving neatly trimmed blades of grass and a weeping root in her wake.



This was written for this week’s Studio30+ prompt.



7 thoughts on “In Her Wake

  1. I like the flow, pleasant to tense. I’m curious to know her love story.

    (And I love really like the idea of a treasure tree, secreting things away. I always wanted one. 🙂 )

  2. oh wow! This is just beautiful and sad too, but written so well.

    that moment of clarity for her, “I love someone else” was a “take away your breath moment”..the kind I love.

  3. Wait, what? You totally deceived me! You sneaky devil you… I was so entranced by this story of young sweet innocent love then you plucked it away at the end! 😉 I do love unexpected endings more than anything else, kudos to you for brilliantly achieving that!

    p.s. “prying out their broken hearts with a pick” what imagery and metaphor! I think I see a prompt in this, if you’ll allow me!

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