Today's free write is prompted by a photo taken from the church plaza in a French village going back to the time of Charlemagne. Laundry is displayed from a majority of homes. No Home Owner Association's to say "no-no-no-no" in a Maggie Thatcher tone. The three free writers are still in two countries but managed to do this exactly at the same time just as they will do when they are in the same location. We take turns finding prompts. Rick is next.
The idea for the book had been a hard sell to her publisher. Rita was now installed in the little French Village, population 3,875. Two days ago it was 3,874. Baby Alain was the new resident and his diapers were hanging out the window to dry. He would be the first chapter,
Mamies, the old women of the village, still did their laundry in the washing shed by the river, a creek really. Then they hung the clothes on the drying lines provided by the mayor.
Women with washers hung their laundry out their first (second story American) story windows.
The type of laundry would tell a story about the owner.
Rita would use true stories when she could for the anthology.
For example: Marie-Claude, age 40, a widow, had sexy underwear. Rita would write that she would use it for publicity, probably correct considering the husbands Rita saw sneaking in and out.
Andre's shirts, pants and underwear needed mending or better replacements. Rita could write about the arguments he had with his wife about her sloven ways.
Thomas lived alone, but his laundry was always hung in order: socks, shirts, etc. He worked from home in IT something, the type of work that was rare in the village.
There were lots of jeans hanging out to dry. Those might be made-up stories.
Before going around to photograph the day's laundry, Rita needed an espresso at the local café.
Ah...the suffering of a writer.
D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at:. https://dlnelsonwriter.com
Rick's Free Write
Once a week, on a Saturday afternoon, Cecilia did the laundry. Bed sheets and pillowcases, her towel and Jean-Jacques’, the dress she wasn’t wearing, his dungarees, their underwear and socks.
She washed by hand in the deep, cast-iron sink in the kitchen. (Houses in small villages in the south of France were not yet equipped with conveniences such as wash machines and tumble-dryers.)
She would wring out each item by hand, place it in a frayed wicker basket and carry it out to the balcony overlooking the graveyard next to the 14th-century church.
Taking her time, every item had its place on the three lines of rope strung across the balcony space.
When she was done, Cecilia would return to the kitchen, then back to the balcony, where she would sit in one of the two chairs next to a small round café table, watching the village families who would visit the graves – to cry and to leave flowers.
She drank her noisette coffee and smoked her one cigarette of the week. Then a last glance toward the hills to the north, where the Maquis resistance fighters were hiding from the Nazis and the Vichy, wondering if Jean-Jacques would ever come home – to her or to the graveyard.
Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.
Julia's Free Write
So why did she look up? What caught her attention?
She went about her daily task, having tea in her favorite spot, buying a few pieces of fresh vegetables and fruit from her friend on the corner. She even, an exception for her, had lunch with a friend who was travelling through.
Still, she was drawn back to that particular place and sight.
From the looks of it, he had obviously found her replacement as his underwear, tea-towels and t-shirts were impeccably pinned out to dry.
Julia has written and taken photos all and loves syncing up with friends. Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/
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