PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr
The fall felt sudden when it came, the troops marching along the avenues, the army encampment in the shadow of the tower, everywhere red, white and black.
Others went before us, but trouble had seemed so distant, another man’s worry. And in the meantime there had been meals to cook, clothes to launder, work and school, the thousand small things that make a life.
Now liberty sleeps, the days have taken on a darker hue and that other life has faded to a distant point on the horizon that remains just a point, no matter the miles travelled.
***
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See the prompt pic and have a go. See here to join in.
Apologies for the slow response to comments. I’ve dived into writing another novel and am finding hard to clamber out!
Word Shamble 
Oh, how I know that feeling. Pure deliciousness! 🙂
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Thank you, Crispina ☺️
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🙂
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I love the mood of this. A little touch of the present in the past
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Thanks Neil, glad that came across – exactly what I was hoping for
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Beautifully written, Lynn. I loved: ‘Now liberty sleeps…’
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks so much Susan. Really glad you liked it
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Excellent Lynn, evoking the experience of the common person swept up by history – something that relates to the present situation for us all, though thankfully not the war.
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Thanks Iain. I was trying to make it ambiguous intentionally. That it could be about the invasion of Paris during the second world war or out current crisis, watching the virus creek up on us. Thanks for reading
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Wonderful analogy of life today, so cleverly done.
Your touch is deft as ever.
Hurry up with that novel!
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Thank you, C. I tried to make it so it could adult to now or seventy years ago. It seemed to work ☺️. And thank you for the encouragement with the novel – 30,000 words in and still feeling good about it. Take care
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Powerful writing. I love the last line.
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Thanks so much. Glad you liked it
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Life goes on one way or another. Great language used Lynn!
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Thanks very much Tanille
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Nicely done, Lynn. It remnded me of a line from an Al Stewart song, ‘our lives are just a point along a line that runs forever with no end.’ and another about the war, ‘their lives were just a smudge of smoke against the sky.’ Good luck with the novel. I find it hard to write and participate in FF, simply because of the time requred for comments. That’s why I have to dib out sometimes.
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Great quotes there, Michael, thanks for sharing those. And you’re right about FF. I’ve taken part more during lock down than I have for months – reading and commenting, even if you don’t do all the stories – takes a long time. Thanks for reading
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Wonderful mood here, evoking that creeping sense of the mundane persisting and keeping us blind to the monster at the door until it’s too late. Your tale gives a great poignancy to the photo, the dream of the shining city cast away with the trash.
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What a great analysis of where the story gains its power, Joy – “the dream of the shining city cast away with the trash.”
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Thanks Penny!
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Thanks so much, Joy. Exactly the feeling I was hoping to evoke. Easy to ignore the monster when it’s someone else’s problem. Thanks for reading
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Beautifully done, Lynn. Liberty sleeps, indeed.
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I suspect she’s often caught napping. Thanks Dale
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Your story is a piercingly accurate depiction of the way we ignore threats in favour of just living our daily lives. Still, I console myself with the thought that it is “the thousand small things that make a life” that eventually save us from totalitarianism.
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Absolutely, Penny. Each of the small liberties we enjoy is to be cherished
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I really like how you portray the details instead of the big picture, but we still get the idea of what’s happening.
Stay locked in on that novel. I know that locked-in feeling. There’s not much better, and it can be fleeting. I keep trying to talk myself into getting there.
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Aw, thank you. Popping out of novel mode occasionally, but yes, it’s great when it happens. Thanks for the encouragement. And thanks so much for reading, Nobbin
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Don’t clamber out, as you say. Go back down in the pit lady!
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Thanks, Bill! I’ve got my pit helmet, my miner’s lamp – I’m going back in! Hope you and the family are well
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Just a point no matter how many miles have been traveled is a world in and of itself.
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Thanks so much
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You’re welcome, Lynn.
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Beautiful. Nuf’ said. Thank you!
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Thanks so much Lish! Really kind of you
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I like the observation of people being caught up in daily tasks while dark political event happen – its very recognisable, and the pervasive sense of menace.
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Thank you so much! And thanks so much for reading
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Dear Lynn,
This one leaves me with a chill that’s more than the autumn air. Well constructed piece. Frighteningly real. I fear Liberty might be preparing for a nap.
Shalom,
Rochelle
PS Those pesky novels. I hope to one day read yours in print.
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Thank you Rochelle. Yes, she naps every now and then, sadly. Thanks for the kind feedback and I’ll keep scribbling!
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Brilliant writing, images, metaphor. I hope it’s not a vision of what-happened-before becoming what’s-happening-now.
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This one just kind of makes me hold my breath, waiting for whatever comes next— must have been like the way Paris held its breath when the Nazis came marching in.
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Thank you so much. I’m really glad you felt it worked. Thanks for reading
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