Hi all! I hope you’re having a GREAT weekend. Happy Labor Day.
I thought it would be fun to brainstorm a Labor Day themed story together. So I hope you all will throw ideas out there. Who knows…perhaps we’ll come up with enough creative fodder for me to move forward with the story and offer it here as a serial story soon. What would you think of that?
We are going to use the photo meme for the brainstorming aspect of this post. Put in the comment section your “what if” ideas:
1: Who is sitting at the desk containing the items you see?
2: What room, item or object does the key unlock?
3: To whom is the letter written? By whom?
4: What is the significance of the flowers? Who brought them into the office and why?
5: The broach is a family heirloom. Why is it on the desk today with the letter and the other objects?
6: What do you suppose is going on in this scene?
7: A young, noble young lady (who is also a virtual stranger to the surviving family members, but not to a member recently deceased) inherits the cameo necklace. Speculate as to why?
8: What is the significance of Labor Day in our story’s setting?
9: What time period should we set our story?
10. What about season and setting? Is it snowing out? Summer? Where in the U.S. is our story taking place?
11. What is the importance or urgency of the calendar in the image?
12: What is the feather about? How does it apply to our story’s theme?
13. What other objects are on the desk that we can’t see?
14: Suppose this is a romance. Who are our main characters?
15: They meet because of an object on this desk. Which one and where?
Thank you SO much for participating. I can’t wait to see what you all come up with!
Also, toss out some title ideas for the story depicted in this image. Have fun!
Blessings,
Cheryl Wyatt
USA Today bestselling author and RN Cheryl Wyatt writes romance with virtue themed with rescue. She’s grateful to be a worshipper of Jesus, a mom, wife, orphan/troop advocate, plus wrangler of words and spoiled Yorkies. She loves readers and cherishes interaction at: https://www.facebook.com/CherylWyattAuthor. Join her newsletter via her website: www.cherylwyatt.com.
An elderly woman is sitting at the desk, remembering times past. The key unlocks a chest where letters and other precious mementos are stored. The letter is written to her, from her sweetheart, while they were separated by war. She bought the flowers in, to remember those given to her by her sweetheart, before and after his return. The noble young lady inherits the cameo as she is related to the daughter fathered during wartime in Europe. The urgency comes from the noble young lady about to inherit the throne. The older woman has tracked her down with the help of her young neighbour, who happens to be a single man…the noble lady is also single… The broach is on the desk as it helped the young man track down the noble lady- it is part of a royal family’s collection. The main characters are the elderly woman and her sweetheart- theirs is a story of love, separation, betrayal and ultimately forgiveness, told through the memories and letters of the elderly woman. The modern day romance of the noble lady and young neighbour who tracks her down is woven through. The young couple meet because of the broach- he has it and she recognises it.
Good fun Cheryl:)
Wonderful ideas!! I’m so glad you stopped by.
Labor Day, the final day of summer. Tomorrow school started. After a long and painful summer was Sarah ready to face 100 high schoolers. She glanced at the sentimental items in front of her. Tears flowing down her cheek. This was all that was left of her family – her grandmother’s broach, her mother’s cameo necklace, an old key, some love letters and the large oak desk.
Last winter after falling and hitting her head, Sarah’s mom passed away quickly. Sarah was thankful to God, she did not have to place her mom into a nursing home. She touched the pansies. The first flowers that bloomed after her mother’s passing. The flowers she had placed on her grave.
During her school breaks and on weekends, Sarah cleaned out the family home, repaired and painted, and finally sold the house in July. Because of her teaching commitments and dealing with the family estate, there hadn’t been much time to mourn.
This morning while sitting at the desk preparing for her lessons she saw the cardboard box containing the last personal effects of her family. She remembered the stories her parents told. During the great depression Sarah’s grandfather labored for a wealthy family and instead of money was paid with grandma’s broach. Mother’s cameo was an heirloom from Sarah’s father and had been in the family since the Civil War.
The key had unlocked a drawer in the desk. That is when Sarah had found the feather, the quill, the letters and an old diary. As Sarah glanced at them through her tears, they appeared to be written as a labor of love. Today the love letters would have to wait. Today Sarah needed to prepare for her English and creative writing classes. Maybe her students could help her write a Labor of Love.
Like pieces of a puzzle, one of the flowers was from her wedding bouquet, one from her groom’s boutonnierre.
But he had never shown. Instead, she received a package in the mail days later. It contained a passport and ticket to some castle in Scotland, and aged photos of a woman wearing the broach. She had read the love letters, signed by unfamiliar names. The wax seal and Donegal family crest were the only things she recognized.
She peered out the window at the sun streaking among the clouds and ocean far below. She fingered the note, the one thing in a familiar hand, Kieran’s. Tears burned her eyes again but she wasn’t going to let them flow. Not again. Not now. Hold fast to the promise, he had said. Hold fast to our love. Hold fast to the key.
But he hadn’t explained why. Why he had left her at the altar. Why he had ruined their Labor Day wedding Why he thought she should love him still.
But he had included the feather. The one token he knew would speak to her heart. That would tell her of his love for her.
She clutched the feather now, brushed it across her lips. His name tumbled from her crushed heart, feathered over her lips on broken breath.
“Aye, my love.” The cherished deep gentle voice came from the aisle behind her. “I’m here.”
Love the classroom setting! Didn’t even cross my mind. Love the title too!
Beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!
I certainly don’t claim to be a writer so I’d never do justice to coming up with a story to fit the picture! I enjoy the other three comments here though, beautifully and masterfully done :-)
I loved their ideas too! Thanks for stopping by!