Doddington Hall in Lincolnshire is a mansion house set amongst intimate gardens and sweeping open land. From the outside the house is Elizabethan, but on the inside it has the interior of the 1760s. It is two things at once, it is a move through time. The house, though obviously large by most of our standards, doesn’t feel overwhelmingly big inside. The first room we walk into is the dining room.
Our winner this month is the haibun “For Lack of Light” written by Kathleen Cain. We received many wonderful submissions and would love to remind you that if you weren’t picked this time, to be on the lookout for the next #Wonderfold! You never know who will be our next winner!
If they stopped and stood perfectly still out on the moor, the quiet was everything. Maybe it was the rise of the hills around them, she thought at first, that meant all sounds from modern life were absent, but even when they walked up atop the hills the quiet was as deep as the ocean. Only the sound of one or two birds broke the silence.
They sit around the table, ten women, their years stretched between fifty-five and eighty-three. They take a mug of tea and a shortbread biscuit between their stiff fingers and they wait a while.
On a small patch of green beside the library in this close community on the hill, once a year we tell stories in a marquee while the sun blazes, the rain beats and the wind howls.
Wonder Fold : Enter our free, bi-monthly, prompt-based writing contest.
The people down there are walking on the concrete pavement, sitting on wooden benches, driving in their metal cars. The city is a constant loop of vehicles, smoke and smog, and noise. It goes around and around and I can see its shunted and criss-cross movement like the leaves on the tress see the ants below.
Our winner this month is “Summertime” written by Fiona M Jones! A big thank you to everyone who participated, it’s always great reading all the pieces that come in.
INVITATION: All art grows out of paying attention: in sight, sound, scent, taste & touch. You are invited to craft a written response (poetry or prose, 50 words or less) to the image and scene below:
She’d sat in the pub with them. Her son, now sixty, and his wife and two daughters. They’d insisted on bringing their golden retriever dog with them, even though Janice had made it plain by the face she pulled that she didn’t like the idea. And she’d been right. The dog had sat by the table all the way through their meal, his big puddle eyes staring and flicking from the food to the people, and back again. It made her uncomfortable, she didn’t like it, and she knew her son, and his wife especially, were tired of that, but still she didn’t like it.