Snow closed the road. The radio said there were people working to clear it but we might be sitting by the side of the highway for quite a while. My spouse smiled at the kids. “At least we won’t get scurvy. We have that bag of oranges in the trunk. And a carton of strawberries!”

“And blankets,” I added.

Their only concern was that they couldn’t get a signal on their phones.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “orange.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

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

2 thoughts on “Orange”

  1. It was the first time she’d ever been to Florida. It was the first time she’d ever flown anywhere. She was going to visit her father for where he’d been living ever since she could remember. She was only seventeen. Marie had such a sense of excitement. She was tense because she had actually never spent any time alone with her father. When he had come up north to visit it always was together with her mother and younger brother. When the plane landed she looked at the sky as she disembarked and was thrilled. The setting sun was an enormous ball of golden orange. She’d never seen anything like it. The temperature was balmy and warm. There was a slight warm breeze caressing her face. Through a pale orange haze she sighted her father on the tarmac staring at her. This would be the start of an exceptionally fascinating experience.

  2. In retrospect , everything that morning was queer.

    Down to the colour of the sky . A smear of fiery crimson against the usual azure . The sun tried its best to emerge , fought against an army of angry black clouds and was injured . The sky bore testimony to its injuries .

    “Paah ! Balderdash ! ” Sun bend her head and whispered to herself “Focus ! focus ” . She had missed the bus and was sprinting to the school . She had begun running , the moment she saw it trundle away , “without her “. Not an easy task with a “two ton load of wisdom ” , as her mother would put it , thudding on her back .

    Gesturing or shouting didn’t seem to help , as the back benchers on the school bus were the footballers, her sworn enemies . Not only did they show her the finger , one of them was actually making a video with his smartphone , as she ran . She noticed the chap. Samar ! Must report him to ma’am , for illegal possession of the phone , get his phone confiscated . It was this stubborn sticking to rules that made her , a prefect , and a natural enemy of the footballers , the congenitally lawless lot.

    He stood by the roadside , selling oranges. As all fruit vendors do . Possibly crying out his wares . She doesn’t remember . She remembered seeing him earlier too , but never paid attention . That day , she stopped . Why ?

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