Even behind glass, the colors have faded. After all these years, you almost can’t make out what the images is. Mere outlines of formerly bright spots and shapes remain. Someone was proud enough of this image to frame it, save it. Somehow it made its way to this thrift shop, in this small town. Maybe people would buy it for the frame, but I was fascinated by the disappearing image. A story grew in my mind as I carried the image to the cash register.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “faded.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

9 thoughts on “Faded”

  1. Photos fade; paint and paintings fade. Smiles fade; hope fades. Living things fade away. Flying objects also fade into the distance – like a kite. To fade is evolutionary. Faded is past tense; it’s gone. Something morphed. What was is no more; it is no longer alive, becoming. Something else has taken its place. Vitality needs ballast. Broom-Hilda, the comic strip character, might rightly say about something faded: “It forgot its ballast.”

  2. Yes some one loved it someone cared maybe it was some one special to them now fading after many years or maybe it was just a picture that said some thing to them personally or reminded them of happier days, maybe there was some thing in that picture that nobody else can see but them. Lovely idea.

  3. Sue and Fay used car service and the same driver to go to shows or shops. After calling, the car would come and they’d go. One day, their driver greeted them, looking confused. “Sue YOU’RE always calling, but today it wasn’t you. So who called?” Sue pointed, saying “FAY did (faded) !”

  4. FADED: Like falling leaves we are nearing the end of our lives; some with debilitating physical limitations and others with Alzheimer’s, etc. I used to hike and climb up a mountain path like a sprightly mountain goat. Loved hiking. Now, after a partial foot amputation due to a giant cell tumor wrapping itself around my toe ligaments, I no longer do so. My balance is off and my feet hurt, but I still retained my sense of humor. That didn’t fade. Next came a bout of breast cancer followed by lumpectomy, blood clot in the recovery room, infection in breast, chemo and radiation. To top it all off, five years of Tamoxifen followed with its nightly “charlie horse” visitations. I retained my sense of humor. Still didn’t fade. Next, luckily for me purely by chance, the discovery of kidney cancer which required the removal of the kidney. Guess what? No fading yet. However, now the peripheral neuropathy which resulted from chemo and permanently damaged my feet, is beginning to move up into my ankles and lower legs. Hmmmm???? Don’t think it’s going to be quite as simple to maintain my sense of humor. Where do I go from here? I’m fading away from the feet on up. Today I’m laughing a little at that last line — not completely faded. (C’mon, stay with me, baby! Please.)

  5. I once was vigorous and full of life. I could run down the mountain side without ever getting tired. I always ran through vast forest and plains without ever running out of life. At times throughout my life, I would jump into the ocean, making huge splashes around where I hit the water, never once thinking about the day that I would do this no more. This time I have faded, my well has run dry and the water from my mouth has faded. I once use to be a wide open river.

  6. “Ding dong.” The bell rang .
    A faded black and white photograph springs back to colour as I look at the person timidly smiling at me .
    The name, the name . I just can’t remember the name . I join my hands in “Namaste”, even as he decides to guffaw in reply.
    Then he speaks, nailing it,-“You didn’t recognise me , did you ?”
    That voice , and mischief twinkling in his eyes , and I go tumbling back in space , twenty years back..

  7. Moira looked at her mother sitting in the family room rocking chair; her favorite piece of furniture in the house. The blank look on her face, as if lost in the confines of her own demented world, was accentuated by the lack of sparkle in her green eyes. That vivid expression, so inherently her own, had long faded away. Moira thought it inconceivable at times—where was the vibrant and beautiful woman she had known during her childhood and into her adulthood? Her mother was a mere shell of what she used to be, and this realization saddened her deeply…

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