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 will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook.
Every fortnight we hope to host a photograph suggested by contributors. So, keep those photograph recommendations coming. Submit your favourite images (with credit) for next week’s Picture it & write!
The air felt so cold against my damp skin that it burned. I heaved myself through the icy water. Why did my useless younger brother throw my book? He was probably jealous I could read and he couldn’t. Literacy was a luxury that my father had bestowed me when he had been alive. I could hear him snorting from the side of the lake. I hissed at him to shut up. If my mother found me waist deep in the lake searching for a book she’d scour my bedroom and burn the few books I had hidden. She hated my incessant reading, she would remind me time and time again that I needed to work on my ability to cook and not my ability to read. ‘A man wouldn’t marry you for your mind, Dorothea.’ My trembling fingers clasped onto the wet book which floated with its pages open, thirsting to be read. This story of mine, of the drowned.
– Ermisenda Alvarez
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