Friday, July 9, 2010

Magpie Tale #22

This is a prompt from a weekly writing theme hosted by Willow over at:


This weeks Magpie brought back some childhood memories that are the basis for my tale. I hope that you all enjoy...

Fifteen-year-old Anya stood with the rest of the pickers waiting for instructions on where they would start their working day. This was her third Summer picking tomatoes, and it was now nothing more than a bore and a chore. When she had started picking at the age of twelve she had seen it as an honour, as finally being recognised as being old enough to join the rest of the family, not having to stay behind and look after the younger cousins.

But not anymore. She stood listening to her Uncle Barry, at the same time twirling the end of her plait around her finger, head cocked to one side thinking to herself, "What on earth am I doing here? I should be spending the day at the pools with my friends. But no, I have to come here in this heat and spend the day working my butt off, God it's just so unfair",  she let out a huge sigh.

 A few minutes later Anya picked up her canvas bag, slung it across her shoulders and moved off with the rest of the pickers. Standing at the end of the row, she looked down at the vines, heavy with ripe tomatoes, hanging, just waiting to be picked. She didn't bother looking at her co-workers, she just moved along the row, picking the fruit she knew was perfect for the markets, leaving the under-ripe fruit, and at the same time dropping any of the over-ripened bird-pecked fruit onto the ground. She moved steadily and quickly knowing that there was only a few hours of good picking to do before the heat of the day made it unbearable to work. Suddenly she felt a sharp stinging pain on the side of her hand, and looking down she saw the hornet with it's stinger embedded in her flesh. She let out a loud squeal, and started jumping up and down holding her hand, trying hard not to cry as she felt the heat of the sting and saw the her hand starting to swell. Suddenly she felt someone take her hand and she watched as the insect and the sting were taken out.

She raised her eyes up to say thank you to her helper, and gasped as she saw the teenage boy who was standing in front of her. He was absolutely gorgeous. Never before in her life had she seen such warm, brown eyes and such smooth olive skin. Her legs felt weak, her stomach was doing flip-flops and her heart was pounding. He looked at her and said,  " Come on we need to get you to the house to put some ice on your hand to try and get the swelling down". She managed to give him a weak smile, as still holding onto her hand, they made their way to the house. Anya cast a sideways glance at him as they were walking and thought to herself, "maybe picking tomatoes is not such a bad way too spend a Summer..."

Footnote: Oh, the angst of a teenage girls first love. Unfortunately the teenage boy did not feel the same way as Anya did, and after two weeks of feeling as if her heart had been broken, she managed to spend the rest of the Summer with her friends.



Isn't that the way love goes sometimes! been there
I loved this telling of the put me right there with this young woman..not wanting to be there but with her friends..and I felt the love arrow strike her...too didn't work out for her...good one


We should, as grown women, all have wonderful magical memories like this!


Awwwwwwwww pity LOL
Loved it man.

Evette Mendisabal

Oh Mum!! I want to read MORE!! Great story.


summertime and first loves...ah memories! Nice Magpie!

Brian Miller

ah what beautiful memories you painted...a wonderful telling...great magpie!


A special tale, even though the outcome wasn't the one Anya wished for at that moment. :)


He may be gone but she will never forget those eyes as long as she lives...wonderful story of youth and youthful love...bkm


Lovely story and you got the voice of the teenage girl so perferctly, oh first love, its always doomed to failure but thats what makes it all the more special.


Great tale of youthful love! I used to go strawberry picking and hated it too. But unlike you I met no nice boys, just middle aged women in their bras!


And just when she thought picking tomatoes wasn't so bad...ah such is life.


Aww, poor Anya.
Young love, we all remember it well.

Karen S

Nice tale -- I especially liked the ending.

Sue J

Ah, those teenage years :)


how sweet.
lovely words,
magical or fairy alike tale!


Hot tomato tale!

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