bookblather: Lucy Hale looking back over her shoulder with a smile. (in the heart: Ahava: Lucy Hale)
bookblather ([personal profile] bookblather) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2015-08-17 02:26 am

Milk Bottle 17: Heartland

Author: Kat
Title: Heartland
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Milk bottle 17 (Funhouse)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Lilith Faire Main Stage: Traveling Again, Dar Williams), miniature, seed beads, glue (Your unflagging tenacity continues to accelerate your progress in life, but it's useful to stop for a moment to take stock of your past accomplishments.), fabric (this image), acrylic (Bored to tears)
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG
Summary: She loved her hometown. She did.
Warnings: sexism.
Notes: For reference, Ahava grew up in a teeny-tiny little town in Alabama.


Ahava loved her hometown. The little streets and the statues and all the joys of small-town life, so maybe it wasn't a surprise that she left as soon as she could.

So did Duncan and his sisters; so did all of her siblings. It wasn't that they didn't love home, but it was a place you came from, not a place you stayed.

Sometimes she thought leaving was a mistake, on lonely nights when the city overwhelmed her, longing for the crickets and cicadas and her mother's soothing voice.

She still knew there was nothing else she could have done.
rootsofthestories: (Default)

[personal profile] rootsofthestories 2015-08-17 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Ohhh, this. This so much. I understand this notion even though I'm not from a super small town. I just really liked this.
novel_machinist: (Default)

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2015-08-17 03:11 pm (UTC)(link)
but it was a place you came from, not a place you stayed.

Man do I know those places
shipwreck_light: (Default)

[personal profile] shipwreck_light 2015-08-19 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
This even smells beautimous and I love it!
kay_brooke: A field of sunflowers against a blue sky (summer)

[personal profile] kay_brooke 2015-08-21 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Yes, I totally get that. There's always a small, nostalgic part of you that misses it, but you know it's for the best that you left.