ff 1024

Industrial sounds echoed across the sound of water. I couldn’t tell how far away I was from either of the sounds.  Throbbing pain on the left side of my head made me feel around for something to hold onto.  I clutched cold metal under my fingertips and was suddenly spooked by a whoosh of air and a rattle behind me.

“Look out, lady!  This is a bike lane.”  

I halted, afraid to move.  

I waited for human voices. 

The absence of words or laughter set me into a panic.

“Ma’am? Your head is bleeding.  Do you need help?”

I sobbed.


Happy 2nd Anniversary to the creator of Friday Fictioneers…. Rochelle WIsoff-Fields. Thanks to The Reclining Gentleman for the photo that sparked our ideas this week.

Follow this link to read more fascinating stories:

About Life in the 50's and beyond...

Welcome to Life in the 50's and 60's and beyond .... where I write about my childhood memories, music of the 60's and about life in the country. I am a mother, grandmother, farmer's wife, business owner, and retired teacher.
This entry was posted in Friday Fictioneers, My Life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

30 Responses to Trembling

  1. LB says:

    Head injury … unfortunately, I can totally relate to that, and the confusion that follows. Well written!


  2. Ruth, If she’s that confused, I’d guess she’s suffering from a concussion. It sounds like a bike hit and run. Fortunate someone was willing to help. Well written and entirely possible.—Susan

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Margaret says:

    An intriguing situation. It brings all sorts of possibilities to mind. I like the contrast between the stillness and silence she’s experiencing, and the noise and speed and sharp words of the cyclist. Can I confess that I once ran into some pedestrians when I was 11, riding my bike along a quiet country road. I was such a shy kid that I couldn’t bring myself to shout out a warning; instead saying, as I’d been taught ‘Excuse me please’ before I knocked a woman to the ground. Fortunately she was uninjured. I’m haunted by it still.


  4. Ellespeth says:

    This is quite mysterious…If, as you commented, you imagined her injured and unable to see, I’m glad she was able to hear the voice…what a true panic you’ve created.


  5. This is frightening in a completely ordinary way, if that’s clear. Much worse, really, than zombies and so on. Good one.



  6. Maxi says:

    Good story. Written with an edge, anticipation…
    blessings ~ maxi


  7. This leaves one with a feeling of total imbalance. Nicely done.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I feel such sympathy for her. Great job.


  9. I wonder what happened, and whether she will remember. Good story.


  10. Maree Gallop says:

    You certainly created atmosphere and emotion – well done! I hope your character lives to tell another tale!


  11. Aww I want to give her a hug.


  12. storydivamg says:

    Ruth, This reads like an excerpt from a longer story. Lots of mystery here. How did she wind up in the bike lane. Like a snapshot from the brain of an Alzheimer’s sufferer.



  13. Caerlynn Nash says:

    Makes me think of a careless youngster on his bike careening past an elderly lady who needs help. I hope I’m wrong.


  14. Dear Ruth,

    You have me wondering what happened to her but it’s so well done I don’t need to know.

    Thank you for the anniversary wishes. I wish I had created Friday Fictioneers. I’ve merely kept it going.




  15. cobbies69 says:

    I would say to you,, write more,, help her through. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Sandra says:

    I felt her confusion, poor thing. You managed to evoke such a lot of sympathy for her plight in a few words.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. mewhoami says:

    I do hope that was indeed fiction. If not, then I hope that everything is okay.


  18. The poor dear. I hope she is okay.


What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s