Draft a post with three parts, each unrelated to the another, but create a common thread between them by including the same item — an object, a symbol, a place — in each part. If I may add, that was not easy
Photographers, show us SHARING.
The Schanz, Solothurn, Switzerland
The tower loomed above everything else. It was there that Mary lost her shoe. She slipped as she walked carefully and the heel caught in a crevice between the stony parapets: balanced on the edge at the top of a sheer wall looking down to a place covered in sparsely growing grass. It was early spring and the chill of winter was still present in the earth. This chill was now in her heart, in her bones, in her body. She plucked the engagement ring from her finger: no wedding, no more need for the ring. This item was no longer necessary, it meant nothing more; a partner that did not bother to arrive for the wedding. The engagement ring was no longer necessary.
One of the best places in town for a lunch break in Summer. It was cool sitting on the walls of the entrenchment surrounded her town. The town founded by the Romans, guarded by a moat. Now years later the moat no longer existed, but it had become a place to rest, to savour the fresh air and enjoy the peace and quiet, until the tourists arrived. It was there that she met Cyril. He sat next to her and asked if it was OK.
“No problem” she answered.
“It’s a nice place for a lunch break” he added as he began to eat a hamburger, bought in the nearby kiosk.
The conversation continued, when she looked at her watch.
“I have to return to the office” but as she stood up she caught the heel of her shoe in the space between the cobbled ground. She felt a bit silly, just having met a very nice young good looking man and standing there with one bare foot. He was her prince Charming probably, as he carefully removed the shoe from its capture and placed it on her foot. She felt a little silly, but in a way flattered. She like this man, whose name was apparently Cyril, although she noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring.
“Silly me” she thought. “How can you already think about a marriage when you have only just met him.”
She went on her way, but not without having planned a further rendez-vous with Cyril on that same evening.
Cyril was getting nervous. His wife accused him of having another girlfriend, of being untrue. He was drinking too much, and she had found the ring he had bought for his girlfriend. This was enough.
Cyril tried to talk his way out of it. It was all a mistake, the ring was for her, his wife of course.
“I have no other. You are my one and only.”
It was then that she became hysterical, shouting and screaming. One thing lead to another, he picked up the first object that came to his hand, one of her high heeled shoes, and threw it at her.
His aim was good, too good, and the heel pierced her eye. She fell blinded with a searing pain in her head. The point of the heel had pierced her brain and now Cyril had a problem. He tried to resuscitate her, but she was not breathing, she was as cold as the stones in the town walls.
It was then that he had an idea. It was late in the evening; the town was quiet, abandoned by the daily crowds. She was lightweight, and he carried her to his car parked outside in the drive. Cyril laid her on the back seat of the car and drove off to the town walls. It was an easy climb up the slope and she was not heavy.
“Of course not” he thought, she was constantly being careful what she ate, keeping her figure slim and lightweight.
“She always was a nagger and only thinking about herself. I will wait some time and propose to Mary.”
He climbed the steps to the top of the tower where he released her. Her body fell and hit the stone parapits on the way down. Cyril rushed to the bottom. Her body was unrecognisable. The head injury was no longer visible, he face and head now being a bloody mess.
Cyril went home, thinking of Mary on his way.