I urge people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (provide a translation please 
). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph has been reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr.
My aunt placed the tea on the table before exiting. These family reunions were always uncomfortable. The conversations grew hot quickly from the grinding friction of personalities. I counted the hours until I would be home again. Instead of fiddling with the hem of my shirt I decided to drink the tea my aunt had offered me. She had a fascination with buying ornate plates, cutlery and cups. The intricate, golden design winked at me. What disconcerted me was the content. Blood-red tea reflected my anxious expression. I took the teacup and rested the cool ceramic against my bottom lip. I was only being paranoid. This was normal tea. The sickly sweet liquid broke past the seal of my lips. I convinced myself the blood-red tea was a fitting choice. After all, wasn’t it blood that had forced us to converse this evening? Somebody had to inherit our grandparent’s money.
- Ermisenda Alvarez
Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish 
!
My brittle fingers gingerly grabbed at the piping hot tea. My eyes wandered in the deep maroon color of the drink. For a moment, I considered not drinking it at all, and spilling it across the floor. But oh, how it would stain. I sniffed at the drink. It reminded me too much of home – that dark place. Here, in my sick bed, the last thing I needed was a black memory. For a moment, I could have sworn to see my thoughts reflecting in the tea. But I drifted off to sleep before I could be sure.
Ha, well, there’s my quick take. I love your version by the way!
Love this – helped me to see a story too
I loved ‘I could have sworn to see my thoughts reflecting in the tea’. I love that the tea has a reflection in it. ‘Brittle fingers’ was also a great phrase. Lovely work. Thanks for contributing!
I like the idea of the tea staining, along with it being a reminder of home, a dark place, like the memory stained too.
Very nice take on this one! I enjoyed it too! Blessings, Terri
Hmm, who needs to read tea leaves when the images swirl so clear and crisp in the liquid tea? I can see all their hopes and dreams in the fluid, scrying their future and learning their past. Such gifts have I, to see the events unfolding and unfolded in the lives of my clients. It is a shame they cannot see for if they could they would know there is no way out of life……
What a powerful ending! I love written works with strong beginnings and ends. It made me wonder about the character’s personality, to learn more about him/her. Thanks for contributing this week, Lee-Anne.
I agree with Ermilia on that last line. Unexpected and powerful. In the photo the reflection did intrigue me, so I like how you brought that in, seeing hopes and dreams.
Me too. It gives me a feeling of being trapped in my own fate.
Thank you everyone! I admit it was tempting to go along with the poison tea idea – sort of “The Landlady” in form – so finding something in the reflections was an absolute gift.
I have been looking forward to our wedding anniversary for ever. “Honey, the baby sitter just called. She’s sick.”
David stopped working on his tie and ask, “Is she canceling?”
“Yes.” I glanced in the direction of Becky’s room. I motioned towards her door. “Now what?”
“Let’s take her with us. It is hard to get reservations.”
My heart sank. “Okay. She might like the play during dinner.” I allowed my shoulders to sag as I thought of the fact that Becky has trouble with staying still.
When we got out of the car, David reminded Becky to talk quietly. “Be on your best behavior tonight, honey.” I hugged Becky close to me as I said that.
Becky nodded and she fidgeted nervously. I knew that she wanted to behave but it was just hard for her at times.
Once inside, we were led to a table. Becky had never seen more than one fork at a place setting before. I explained that the small one is a salad fork while the other one is the fork for the main meal. I could see that she wanted to fiddle with something. So, I grabbed a pencil and paper from my purse and handed them to Becky. “Here, draw something.” She smiled and began to doodle on the sheet. A waitress took our orders and left.
“I’m hungry.” whined Becky.
“I know. Our salads will come soon.”
We chatted together until the salads arrived. They began eating their salad and the play began. “I can’t see.” whined Becky. A few heads at a nearby table looked in their way. I tapped her and placed my finger over my lips in a “shh” symbol.
“Move around a little to see if you can see a little better.” whispered David. She moved her chair around and accidently made a scraping sound with her chair. “Quietly move.”
Becky’s face turned red. “Sorry.” Soon she managed to find a satisfactory spot and sat still again.
This picture is a hard one for me.
I’m glad you contributed this week even though the picture was a hard one for you. I’m surprised by the story you wrote, even though it didn’t seem to have a direct tie to the picture it was great that you posted it. I love reading everyone’s stories. I can relate with Becky, I can be very restless if I sit for too long. Lovely work.
I write my own Becky sometimes so I liked this story a lot. I’m struggling to make even an indirect tie, although I also got a hint of wedding. I’d love it if you’d share that.
Ermisenda, I was fascinated by the tension you found between the ornate plate and cup, the outer things, and the blood-red of the interior, what’s deeper, inside them. I saw no threat in the photo, and I love how you brought that out and changed it for me. This would make a great story opener!
Thank you, Patrica! You’re too lovely.
I guess that’s the whole point of Picture it & write, to share our interpretations. I hope to see yours on here soon. 
Very interesting and fresh blog! Maybe one Sunday you will see me writing about your picture….
This blog is the best! So many amazingly good contributions on these!
We would love to see you writing about the chosen picture! Only time will tell, I’m glad you like the blog. Stick around, you might find something else you like
Stuck on my phone this week.
Woo hoo! I got time on a laptop!
So my first thought was arsenic and Terri wrote that straight up!
Yay!
Ermi, you made a double blood metaphor and without involving vampires… ♥♥♥
Don’t ask me how this picture became an attempt at romance… I have no idea. Here’s Spot of Tea. Breaking my edit rule again for the late hour and limited computer access. Sorry…
Gosh, I’m so bad at these links… http://anneschilde.wordpress.com/2011/12/04/1101/
For a second you got me worried that we would have to wait days until we got your contribution! Romance, eh? That’s great. I really enjoyed reading it, I love variety. I also liked that the persona didn’t just find love in the servant but she was more of a symbol, sincere attraction as oppose to forced attraction (arranged marriages). Romantic pieces are great to read… there’s just not many good ones (for me). I’m glad you loved the double blood metaphor without the vamps
It’s always a pleasure to read your work, Anne.
This was partly about identifying with that character Kvennarad was talking about on the Causing Fate post. The one who wasn’t really part of the story line, but nevertheless plays a role.
Ah, I didn’t catch that. It’s bluntly obvious when I think about it now though. Lovely!
Well, this is a twist, hope you like: http://terri0729.wordpress.com/2011/12/03/scent-of-almond/
Blessings, Terri
Wow! That twist was fantastic. I loved it, you took my story and pushed it that level further. That final stanza was really powerful. Another great work, Terri! Thanks for contributing and blowing my mind away this week.
Pingback: Scent of Almond « What about God?
Also at http://randomthoughtsandmusings.wordpress.com
Your tea sits on the faded, cracked table
untouched, growing cold
How I wish you remained here
where I could hold you
Instead, I’m faced with the empy space
you used to fill in my home, in my heart
Will you remain a part of my soul? Or,
will I become as empty as the chair
that sits where you once were?
The memories are already beginning to blur
underneath the anguish, the uncertainty, the pain
Knowing I’ll never see you again
Never see you smile or laugh
Never see you angry or sad
Never see you in joy and pleasure
How long before these memories I will simply treasure
Rather than wince and push them down and away
Burying them down deep, wishing I could forget
Only to wish I could simply remember and not pick
them apart, disect and analyze your every
moment in my life in an attempt to keep you with me
Your tea sits on the faded cracked table, steeping even still
until it is as bitter as my tears.
That’s just a random side comment, but I nearly wrote the phrase, “untouched, it had grown cold” in my own extract!! (In the end it turned out to be, “untouched, it had become cold”) but still. I like how there are so many feelings that are directly related to this simple cup of tea. Good work
Yeah, the fact the tea was still was very strong for me, although I actually went the opposite and touched it so it would break the stillness.
Delightful. I was very fond of this part ‘Will you remain a part of my soul? Or,/will I become as empty as the chair/that sits where you once were?’, the beginning was immensely powerful too as was the end. The poem was raw with emotion. Bittersweet. Thanks for contributing and I hope to see more of your work.
Pingback: Bitter Tea « Random Thoughts and Musings
Stilled, gules et or,
ripple and rattle,
waiting to happen.
M
(gules, or – heraldic terms for red and gold)
The gold, which looks like real gold to me, also stood out. I love how this captures most of the images I got in maybe their simplest form.
I agree with Anne, you captured the image in words. It’s great when you contribute. Your short, sweet and simple poems always seem to pack so much in such few words. That’s what I love about your work, kvennarad. I hope to see more
Thank you. Would you have any objection to my using the photo?
It’s not actually my photo, you can use it as far as I know.
http://masochisticqueen.wordpress.com/2011/12/04/__-picture-it-write-8/#more-596
Honestly, the things I write get more and more weird … :S
I like weird.
That was the perfect level of weirdness! A haunting story. I thought it was great. I am dying to find out more. Why? The imagery of the falling cup was fantastic, ‘a strident scream shattered the atmosphere.’ Brilliant. If for some reason you continue this story… alert me immediately!
Thanks! Well if you are so enthusiastic about this, I’ll think about writing more of it …
I added a tiny bit more to it …
Ha! There is no second Like button. I love how you mixed the tea with his blood to fulfill the metaphor. That was awesome.
we tried to cover up our
scars
with something a little more
f l a s h h h h y
you’d tip your cup at
tall, handsome waiters
while i sat there and
bled
you were bleeding, too
you just didn’t want to admit it
my nose turned up
when florescent lights beamed
across the high cheek bones and
silver trays of footmen falling to your feet
do you enjoy the limelight?
do you enjoy the sapphire?
i held my lips still to the brim
steam riding to my cheeks,
flushing me scarlet
before i ever had a chance to
confess
-Ashley
!!! Where to begin… I guess I’ll just pick out how much I love the cheeks and how they become the fulcrum of this thought. My scars, your scars like a see-saw so that, “steam riding to my cheek” just takes me for the ride!
You are just wonderful and a great inspiration to my heart. Thank you for the feedback! :]
I agree with Anne. The ‘team riding to my cheeks’ was amazing. That last stanza is icing to the cake. I also liked how you presented the word ‘flashy’, you made the word LOOK like it’s meaning. That’s brilliant.
Great work, Ashley. It’s great to see your lovely work on here. 
Thank you!! :] I enjoy your comments but not as much as I enjoy your prompts. How lovely it is of you to give us such treasures.
Here is my attempt at the P&W of this week!
Lagen ter bescherming,
van je geliefden
het niet door laten sijpelen
van je fouten,
zodat zij niet verdrinken
in het bloed van je problemen.
De gouden aderen moeten
zichtbaar blijven.
Layer for protecting
your loved ones
not letting your errors
seep through,
So they don’t drown
in the blood of your problems
The golden veins
have to stay visible.
- Otheus
This is way cool! I never referenced the tea itself in my piece for just what I see here, but I could never write it this way. You wrote both the cup and the tea without writing them at all, and said so much in so few words!
I too really liked that the tea itself was never referenced. The imagery of ‘golden veins’ was stunning. ‘Not letting your errors seep through’ was also a great image. As always, I love the dual-language poetry that comes out of you, Otheus.
Here is my take…
http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2010/12/10/a-spoonful-of-guilt/
Love your meme!
Lovely. Although I don’t really see how the poem links to the chosen image for Picture it & write. It was a delicious poem, great use of description. I’m glad you enjoy our meme’s.
Someone did ask me my favorite tea once, and I said, “Coffee.” I like the tasting of memories.
Pingback: untitled “Picture it and write” #2 « Ashley Barela Writes
His fingers are grimy, soot stained, blackened.
His eyes shine with sunlight that he rarely finds,
He spends each day, morning to evening,
Working in the mines.
He never complains.
He wistles a tune on the way home each night.
I know when he is coming,
I hear him pass my porch every morning.
Every evening,
His hunchity form always seems content.
Somehow he gleams with a hope of success.
Though he trots back into the darkness again.
I know he would never reach into the cupboard,
With smooth, clean hands,
And make his tea with a dash of almondy powder,
A bitter,
Snarling,
Softly calling,
Means to an end.
His features are jagged,
His smile immense.
In the dark he must surely shine like a star.
Whereas living in the brightest stead,
I am black as any slag by far.
I live in bright daylight.
He lives underground.
Yet I know his eyes will never be grimy like mine,
And he will never mix tea with cyanide.
A haunting poem! I really liked the structure of ‘A bitter,/Snarling,/Softly calling,/means to an end.’. Very effective. I also loved the idea that his eye shone with the minimal sunlight he was exposed to, that was a great way to describe it. An unexpected, dark, mysterious poem. Thanks for contributing again, theonlyjoe!
This reminded me of the Morlock, who would never poison me because I am food.
The reflection of life once lived is shown for you to see – deep in a cup so beautiful that it retains the beauty of the depth and clarity of what is yet still to come….
Yay Sirpa, I’m glad you came to play
Subtle, short and sweet. Lovely. Thanks for swinging by Sirpa and sharing a great, small (but mighty!) contribution.
i watched her peel you off her side
as the morning woke, stained by sky
and all hands fell limp and sticky.
purple hung through all your hearts
with chins set ablaze – jutted out
and bruised like oil paint.
your skin, however, had suckled fast
and held against the vacuum
like two objects should.
when the peel erupted with sweat and calls
the pores found new homes
and instead fell asleep, appalled and numb
as they gasped in dawn and dismissed the thrum
- i wrote a weird poem.
This is one weird cup of tea! Lord Nelson, eh?
.. yes? Lord Nelson, ahem… Tell me of what you speak! I google “Lord Nelson” and all I get is breweries and imdb pages. WHY AM I SO IGNORANT!!!1!!
ps. It does make *some* faint sense. I basically latched on to the colour, the lighting (in the way it looks like a foggy morning) and how it looks like sediment has settled on the bottom of the cup, as if cold and abandoned
Lord Nelson is the brand name on the tea bag in the picture. I couldn’t find much about them either.
It is a weird poem, but I love the heavy use of metaphor/description. Even though I was a bit confused as to what was happening exactly I could appreciate the lovelines of particular phrases such as ‘i watched her peel you off her side/as the morning woke, stained by sky’ and ‘they gasped in dawn’. Exquisite, daisyhead!
it’s basically people have fallen asleep outside, some against each other and as they wake up it is all foggy and humid or whatever and their skins have suctioned together. then as they “peel” apart their skin goes into shock against the hot, wet air. the bit about bruised chins is a bit ambiguous… i think it means being wounded by pride – chin jutted out but damaged. maybe these people are sleeping outside because of it. who knows. YOU WILL NEVAR. the whole tone of purple through their hearts and echoed in bruises i guess is a bit dampened and forlorn. the “thrum” was basically a) a rhyme and b) i imagine a throbbing headache as a result of whatever pride or harm came to them..
I just had a dream where I walked in on him with another girl, so “watched her peel you off her side” was very graphic for me. “Bruised like oil paint” really stood out for me creating both texture and pigment in my mind.
I love this picture but I will admit it was a challenge for me to write to…
My grandmother
Was prone to uncanny discernment
She was known for reading one’s future
In a single cup of tea
Her spell of choice
Consisted of a main ingredient of roses
Whose leaves
Bled blood red
An omen of death, or life
I was never sure which
She held all the universe’s secrets
In that delicate cup of tea
Did my grandmother ever see
Her own soul in the bottom?
I’m very glad you took a shot at the image this week even though you found it challenging. Bravo!
Often I find that the most challenging of images produce the most eclectic of works. I really liked the ending you gave your poem, Toya. It was powerful. Thanks for contributing and I hope to see more work from you.
I like the way “bled blood red” makes you stop and read it carefully. It almost gives the poem an incantation feel for a second, which is cool since it’s about a spell.
“More washing ” I thought to myself. What do these children do dirty the clothes because they can.
I still have to clean the bathrooms and do the dishes.Then there’s the vaccuming the list just goes on .
As I placed the clothes into the washing machine I suddenly thought I could really do with nice hot cup of tea. Off to the kitchen I went. Then i noticed it that beautiful ornate tea cup I brought myself ages ago sitting on the shelf begging to be used.
Once the tea was made I went and sat in the garden. When I saw all the reflections of my beautiful surroundings I realised life is full of chores but the rewards are just so great. So go on have a nice hot tea use that special cup because you earned it.
This is such a feel good contribution, great job Peta! I was waiting for something disastrous to happen but this contribution was like taking in a breath of fresh air. A positive, slightly-inspirational story. It’s true, life is full of chores and all we can do is face them and smile! While also drinking tea, of course.
It was great to read your work Peta, I hope to read more of it on the Picture it & write posts in the future.
Yay Peta! You exactly caught my feelings as I was doing the washing up the other day. Perfect reflection
A perfectly relaxing and rewarding cup of tea! I was glad you gave us the reflection of the sky too.
always an inspiration! here’s my addition, sorry it’s a tad late. (:
http://lazylilacs.wordpress.com/2011/12/08/kettle/
Delightful! ‘the rosebuds from my father’s secrets tasted too much like/the days we spent in amsterdam and the nights left lost in jupiter.’ I thought this phrase was brilliant. ‘Nights left lost in jupiter’, genius I tell you! Great use of symbols and imagery. Thanks for contributing this week lazylilacs. Can’t wait for more!
Pingback: Almond Tea (Picture it & write #6) « The Only Joe
http://rosikifish.wordpress.com/2012/01/16/661/ I like some of these older pictures, they’re really cool!
Very dark. I’m glad you like them! I loved the image you finished the story on, ‘A slight chuckle escaped my lips as I carefully avoided the deep red tea creeping across the stone tiles.’ Cruel, striking, raw. Awesome work Rosikifish!
Pingback: Scrawling a bit of Fiction IV « The Green Fox Press
Deanna sat on the edge of the hard, straight-backed chair, her short fingernails digging into the wood underneath as she gripped the seat. She kept her eyes locked on the cup in front of her, watching the red liquid swirl in the small porcelain mug. The queen sat across from her, black orbs dancing with delight at the girl’s discomfort. Her cruel lips curled in amusement. Deanna blinked and met the hard stare. Straightening her shoulders, she told herself to be brave. Her fingers curled around the small handle, lifting the deadly liquid to her lips. Her fear faded as she drank.
Uh oh! I wonder what’s in the tea. Stop drinking Deanna! Great writing, Samantha. Thanks for contributing.
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The link to my post.
http://sandcastlesandsnowforts.blogspot.com/2012/11/picture-it-write.html
I thought perhaps I should add the post here too.
“Let me take that out of your way.”
“Be careful, you wouldn’t want to break that.”
“Oh honey, let’s not use these for our tea. I’m saving these for something special.”
The dreaded tea cups that adorned my grandmother’s counter. How proud she was of her flawless set of cups and saucers. Oh how I loved to trace the design with my fingertips, but only did it once in her presence. The wrath of a woman that loved her things more than me was swift and sure. I was never allowed to actually use the cups. I’m not sure she ever used them either, but they were cleaned daily, used or not.
It seems strange now that she’s gone.She was specific on leaving the tea set to me. It’s been eight years now, and today I have tea ready. I pour it carefully into the beautiful cup. This is it. I’m really going to do it. Taking a deep breath I sigh heavily. Even the noise seems too much for the delicate cup. I sip my tea slowly, enjoying every last drop from the forbidden cup. I feel bold and daring. This is it. My final reward. The four place setting that will haunt me for fear of breaking it and upsetting the heavenly realm.
I place the empty tea cup gently on the saucer. Finished, and no one died. Taking the hammer from the drawer, I raise it over my head and bring it down with a forceful blow. Shards fly. I breathe deeply.
Fear released.
I clean up the mess and then carefully clean the other three cups. I’ll call my two daughters in soon and we’ll have a grand tea party. As it should be with such a fine set.
Wow. I sense a bit of resentment in our main character over her grandmother. I loved the structure of this part “I raise it over my head and bring it down with a forceful blow. Shards fly.” Powerful. It draws our attention to the shards flying. Thanks for contributing, Vanessa.