Fiction: The spark is gone

I’m spying on my husband. I don’t feel proud of it, but it may be worth trying.

He says the spark is gone.

I don’t understand. Not too long ago the intensity of our love was so big and felt like an earthquake every time we were close to each other.

Then it’s gone? All of a sudden, like this?

I think this is some kind of plot. I’m not sure what for, but it just can’t be true.

The spark cannot be gone. It’s not gone for me! 

I love him….


Last week I wrote my entry for the Writing Prompt #27 while watching my daughter’s jump rope tournament, and saved it on OneNote to publish here later. But with the busyness os the weekend I ended up completely forgetting to do so, until today, 2 days after the ‘deadline’.


But since I did write,  I decided to post it anyways. Here it is then.  The prompt words for that week were:


The picture is from

Weekly Writing Challenge: Snapshots of Gold and Silver

Straight lines. A few horizontal, most vertical. Some cutting the landscape diagonally, but always up, reaching for the sky.

They are brown or grey. Occasionally disrupted by a fighting leave, trying to hold tight in spite of the wind. But today there is no wind.

And the sky today is blue. If you look really, really far into the horizon, you can see some clouds, but otherwise, just plain blue sky.

So the sun is up. Not too high, not too warm, at this time of the year and at this latitude. Still warming, though. And when it’s up there, trying to warm us up no matter what, we all go out and try to soak most of it.

That’s when the brown and gray lines become Gold and Silver threads. Tree branches becoming precious with the happiness of soaking the warming rays of the Sun.

This post was written in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge: Snapshots