Pripyat, Ukraine | © Krystian Machnik, Google Maps
“I got it,” he said.
She hurried back to the kitchen. He sat at the table, the paper trembling in his broad hands. He held it out like precious parchment and not the government-issue letterstock it was. She took it, eyes stitching the length of the letter. “Where will it be?”
“Across from the market. Between Residence Ten and Twelve. Everyone will see it when they go to market. Everyone.”
She sat down, letting the letter rest on the table. “Have you decided what it will be?”
He stared past the bare light fixture, far beyond the cracked ceiling, his chiseled jaw proud. “It must be something grand, of course. Something inspiring. It must memorialize our great men. Our noble history. Oh Oksana—everyone will see this work. I will be remembered forever.”
She leaned forward, her small hand shelled over his, her eyes tender. “You will, solnishko. You will.”
—
150 words
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. To read more stories inspired by the prompt, click here.
This week’s location (Chernobyl) was especially fascinating to me. I could easily lose a morning, a day, or even a weekend, just wandering the streets. There’s something about urban decay that really makes me think about the transient nature of art, and life, and well… everything.
k. Rawson 
Really excellent moment you’ve captured here. The tone of the voices is just right. That last line sparkels with emotion. Well done.
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Thanks so much for reading.
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I almost wanted to add my hand to their hands at the end – felt the emotion here in a good way…
and loved this in the notes:
“…makes me think about the transient nature of art, and life, and well… everything.”
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Very kind of you. Thanks for reading!
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My pleasure and i still cannot leave comments on J’s blog (maybe spam)- hmm
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Oh! I will let him know. His website is set up differently from most wordpress sites and obviously something is getting horked up.
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Thanks – and I started to write a little shout out to you and J in my last Pegman post – but it was getting too long.
So I will wait – but I had this analogy come to mind when i was thinking of you two as writers.
I guess this last week has been one of reflecting on some of my blog connections.
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Must be going around! I almost did a fictioneer for your inspiring photo this week but couldn’t manage to overcome my introversion.
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ha ha – well just keep going with the flow -because your writer’s soul knows…
oh that was cheesy
very cheesy
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I felt my own excitement rising with each word. This was wonderful, Karen.
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Thanks Dale.
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I like how you have found optimism and inspiration in the most challenging of places. Well done.
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Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment. I hope you’ll considering joining What Pegman Saw some week!
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Eyes stitching, hand shelled. Lovely descriptions throughout. Such hope and love in this tale.
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Glad you liked it. Thanks for reading Lish! I still am not sure I like the images. I guess it’s Day 2 editor showing up….
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You’ve written a terrific opening sentence that immediately has us wanting more. The dialogue tells the story, draws the characters and implies the relationship between them. The conclusion is tender; “Her small hand shelled over his,” is a really good description, so absolutely precise. Good from beginning to end, Karen!
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Penny, you are so very generous. Your praise means a lot. I think so much of your work. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment!
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A captivating story Karen – the spirit of hope and of the future. And the tenderness. Great story.
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Thanks so much Francine. Glad you liked it.
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Beautiful scene, the imagery and word so tender. And so ironic, given the photo, and his masterwork’s eventual fate–to be seen by no one.
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If it weren’t for that intrepid Google Maps photographer, it might not have been seen for 20,000 years 😉
But actually, that’s what got me thinking about it. No matter what we, do or create, the odds that it will be around diminish with every year that passes. And it begs the question–why do we do it? And the answer is there, in the touch of her hand. Or at least that is what I wanted my story to be about, but I didn’t have quite enough words to do it like I would have liked.
Thanks for reading, commenting, and putting up with my long and rambling reply to your comment!
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