The clouds parted. A golden full moon filled the space. She was fully round today; not that bibulous gibbousness of growth or fading; not that boring half and halfness that will come again soon enough; not either that fine thumbnail crescent. Today she hangs full and gloriously elegant as she gazes down on the recycling men in their hi-viz greens and oranges as they wait to orderly empty bins into their truck.
She gives a gaze of contempt to let them know that even if they think elegance is not for the early hours of the morning she fully disagrees.
She moved through the water with grace and elegance. Her head held high, she could see at a distance the shape of her lover. He glided effortlessly as he worked, collecting the things she needed to care for her little ones. They made hungry noises, so she nuzzled them to soothe their cries. Her lover appeared nonchalant, but as he moved toward her, she knew he understood that he needed to complete his task. She met him on his way, stopping him for a moment to express her gratitude. As their beaks touched, their long white necks formed a heart.
It was my first and only trip to a bridal salon. I was ushered into a dressing room the size of a studio apartment, with soft lighting that made me look ten years younger. Even in my underwear, which was not nearly elegant enough to match the gorgeous, cream-colored satin dresses.
I chose two finalists: a floor-length gown fit for a Botticelli angel (floral wreath optional), and a Grace Kelly-esque classic with a low-cut bodice and flared skirt.
My fiance brought me back to earth.
"Do you really want to wear that," he said, "on the subway to City Hall?"
"Who's that?" asked Rachel, gawking up at the elegant lady in the painting.
The old woman chuckled.
"Why, that was me, if you can believe it. I always thought Harold made me too pretty in that picture, though. She looks a bit like I did, but more like--well, someone else. But I always kept her up because she reminds me of him. And because I'm a bit scared to try taking her down."
"I could, if you want. It doesn't look very heavy."
"No, best not to, dearie. You seem like a nice girl, but I'm afraid she is not."
Tall and slender with dark hair and blue eyes that sparkled she should have stood out, but her crippling shyness forced her into corners. In her daydreams she became a different person--stylish, graceful and elegant. In the real world, she spent most days at home in sneakers and jeans, caring for children and grand children. And yet, there existed within my mother a kind of elegance, visible only those closest to her. It was in the way she rose above her circumstances, choosing to see the bright side of things, and never succumbing to self pity, crudeness, or despair.
I think that's 100. Thanks for the prompt Miguel! I needed to get out of my story for a bit.
TJ, your reflection beautifully captures the quiet yet profound strength of your mother. It resonates with how society often overlooks women who choose authenticity over visibility.
Her elegance, as you describe, isn’t about external flair but an inner radiance—rooted in resilience, kindness, and the grace to navigate life’s challenges without bitterness. It’s a reminder of how true beauty often resides in the everyday acts of love and care, far from the spotlight.
Thank you for sharing this heartfelt piece. It’s a touching tribute and a reminder to celebrate those whose strength and authenticity deserve to be seen and cherished. 🌿
How much wealth could the Pohyor have that a man like this one, who didn’t even carry a weapon, could be that well fed and lavishly dressed?
A couple of years ago, when he first came of age, Inaz had accompanied his father on the yearly trade run across the endless sands of the Turma to the independent city-state of Makan Alabar, a massive, ancient, beautiful port at the nexus of the desert and the Sea of Suola. Only there, in the enormous, thousand-year-old marketplace, he had ever seen men as fat or as richly appointed as this man, but never men who were both at once. And men like that did not tend to stay long in Makan Alabar, Inaz’s father had told him, for there was always someone else there with the motivation to rob them—and they made easy targets.
The woman, the weight of inadequacy heavy on her shoulders, forced herself to raise the black block and begin to erase. She couldn't see it. Another 10 minutes, another 100 hours wouldn't matter. It was the same chaos, the same puzzle of numbers, letters and lines that it had been for 3 years. She couldn't solve it. The key that would turn the chaos to beauty. She couldn't admire it. When the solution reveals the elegance hidden beneath the confusion. She couldn't appreciate it. She hatred inside her swelled without hope to keep it at bay.
I have seen many in my time, and have even had one once in a while, but she was the best. I wasn’t really even looking then. Strolling along the shore on a beautiful sunny day, I was thinking about all the things I had to do. Then I looked up and saw her and my jaw dropped. She was so beautiful that I was struck dumb. I told myself to forget her, that she’s way out of my league. But I knew I had to have her when my eyes moved to the word painted on her transom, “Elegance.”
So many microfictions! Love this one.
Great portrait of death.
Thank you Rose!
PROMPT: ELEGANCE
THE MAKEOVER
The room was looking too drab.
Too boring.
It desperately needed a makeover.
Nothing too extreme.
Just something subtle, and elegant.
Soft carpeting would be a good starting point, they decided, along with a few items of plush furniture.
But they were quickly told to stop being so stupid.
This was prison.
And the conditions were supposed to be harsh… 😎
Elegance - 100mg including the title
Reflections Don’t Lie
He was enamored by her elegance, when they first met.
Matthew was from the other side of the tracks and yet he made her smile.
He never got rid of the feeling that he could never be enough for her.
It was now 20 years later and the same arguments repeated again.
He caught their reflection in the window and it shocked him.
Their body language said it more than words could ever say.
They had grown apart.
The body knows before the mind does. He said to himself
It was over before she uttered the words.
Elegance - 100mg
=========================================
The clouds parted. A golden full moon filled the space. She was fully round today; not that bibulous gibbousness of growth or fading; not that boring half and halfness that will come again soon enough; not either that fine thumbnail crescent. Today she hangs full and gloriously elegant as she gazes down on the recycling men in their hi-viz greens and oranges as they wait to orderly empty bins into their truck.
She gives a gaze of contempt to let them know that even if they think elegance is not for the early hours of the morning she fully disagrees.
Microdosing Fiction - 100mg of an Elegance
===
He stood up straight, eyes fixed on the woman walking up the stairs.
He’d seen her many times before but unlike today, in her simplest white gown. Her hair was tied up in the simplest bundle.
She looked straight ahead as she passed the last step. Everybody was silent.
Their eyes met. He wanted so badly to check if his face mask was tight.
With unrivalled calmness, she went down on her knees. He stepped into his position, whispering, “Forgive me.”
He swung the sword with all his strength and precision, the least he could do for the punished queen.
😭
Sorry.
Just this one box, she thought, as she pulled it out from the long-forgotten corner
of her parents’ attic.
The movers were almost done downstairs, and she didn’t want to leave without it.
The memories flooded back as the contents inside revealed themselves.
Old family photos, childhood drawings, her father’s pilot wings.
Neatly folded inside a slender satin bag, she found a pristine pair of white opera gloves,
a simple symbol of elegance that spoke of a special night, in a time long past,
when a little girl watched as her mother dressed up for the occasion.
She moved through the water with grace and elegance. Her head held high, she could see at a distance the shape of her lover. He glided effortlessly as he worked, collecting the things she needed to care for her little ones. They made hungry noises, so she nuzzled them to soothe their cries. Her lover appeared nonchalant, but as he moved toward her, she knew he understood that he needed to complete his task. She met him on his way, stopping him for a moment to express her gratitude. As their beaks touched, their long white necks formed a heart.
Aw that's beautiful. I will look at the swans on our local pond differently now
I love this version of grim reaper!
ELEGANCE
It was my first and only trip to a bridal salon. I was ushered into a dressing room the size of a studio apartment, with soft lighting that made me look ten years younger. Even in my underwear, which was not nearly elegant enough to match the gorgeous, cream-colored satin dresses.
I chose two finalists: a floor-length gown fit for a Botticelli angel (floral wreath optional), and a Grace Kelly-esque classic with a low-cut bodice and flared skirt.
My fiance brought me back to earth.
"Do you really want to wear that," he said, "on the subway to City Hall?"
Oh that's quite sad. I think she should wear it on the subway anyway
"Who's that?" asked Rachel, gawking up at the elegant lady in the painting.
The old woman chuckled.
"Why, that was me, if you can believe it. I always thought Harold made me too pretty in that picture, though. She looks a bit like I did, but more like--well, someone else. But I always kept her up because she reminds me of him. And because I'm a bit scared to try taking her down."
"I could, if you want. It doesn't look very heavy."
"No, best not to, dearie. You seem like a nice girl, but I'm afraid she is not."
killer last line!
Tall and slender with dark hair and blue eyes that sparkled she should have stood out, but her crippling shyness forced her into corners. In her daydreams she became a different person--stylish, graceful and elegant. In the real world, she spent most days at home in sneakers and jeans, caring for children and grand children. And yet, there existed within my mother a kind of elegance, visible only those closest to her. It was in the way she rose above her circumstances, choosing to see the bright side of things, and never succumbing to self pity, crudeness, or despair.
I think that's 100. Thanks for the prompt Miguel! I needed to get out of my story for a bit.
TJ, your reflection beautifully captures the quiet yet profound strength of your mother. It resonates with how society often overlooks women who choose authenticity over visibility.
Her elegance, as you describe, isn’t about external flair but an inner radiance—rooted in resilience, kindness, and the grace to navigate life’s challenges without bitterness. It’s a reminder of how true beauty often resides in the everyday acts of love and care, far from the spotlight.
Thank you for sharing this heartfelt piece. It’s a touching tribute and a reminder to celebrate those whose strength and authenticity deserve to be seen and cherished. 🌿
Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to comment.
How much wealth could the Pohyor have that a man like this one, who didn’t even carry a weapon, could be that well fed and lavishly dressed?
A couple of years ago, when he first came of age, Inaz had accompanied his father on the yearly trade run across the endless sands of the Turma to the independent city-state of Makan Alabar, a massive, ancient, beautiful port at the nexus of the desert and the Sea of Suola. Only there, in the enormous, thousand-year-old marketplace, he had ever seen men as fat or as richly appointed as this man, but never men who were both at once. And men like that did not tend to stay long in Makan Alabar, Inaz’s father had told him, for there was always someone else there with the motivation to rob them—and they made easy targets.
—
https://shieldbreakersaga.substack.com/p/the-last-of-the-etela-chapter-1
100 mg dose Elegance
She walked the aisle. Louis Armstrong expressing her heart’s hope. She was the epitome of elegance in motion.
She imagined her love, watching her come towards him, feeling the song as if he penned those words.
“The very thought of you makes my heart sing
Like an April breeze on the wings of spring
And you appear in all of your splendor
My one and only love”
She glided along, pausing now and again to look at people’s kind faces as they witnessed her joy.
She could never have imagined that her man would shatter her world with his violence.
The woman, the weight of inadequacy heavy on her shoulders, forced herself to raise the black block and begin to erase. She couldn't see it. Another 10 minutes, another 100 hours wouldn't matter. It was the same chaos, the same puzzle of numbers, letters and lines that it had been for 3 years. She couldn't solve it. The key that would turn the chaos to beauty. She couldn't admire it. When the solution reveals the elegance hidden beneath the confusion. She couldn't appreciate it. She hatred inside her swelled without hope to keep it at bay.
I have seen many in my time, and have even had one once in a while, but she was the best. I wasn’t really even looking then. Strolling along the shore on a beautiful sunny day, I was thinking about all the things I had to do. Then I looked up and saw her and my jaw dropped. She was so beautiful that I was struck dumb. I told myself to forget her, that she’s way out of my league. But I knew I had to have her when my eyes moved to the word painted on her transom, “Elegance.”