Six Sentences Stories - Resort

Clark of Wakefield Doctrine extended the opportunity to me to participate in the multi-POV (point of view) six this week. This has been an interesting challenge of my abilities, or lack there of, but I appreciate is willingness to see what point of view I might give to one of the characters mentioned in his SSS-Resort this week.

Denise of Girlie on the Edge's blog, our host, provides the link to this blog hop each week. Click here to read the posts of others participating this week in the Six Sentence Stories - Resort. Being able to read the variety of stories shared at her site is both a learning experience and just plain enjoyable.

 

Today the tinkling of the small metal wind chimes above the entrance sounded abrasive to her ears as Miz Duquette's last visitor of the day, and in no way she could determine, a friend, headed toward her car.

Cindy reached down under the aged gauze curtain and removed the Open sign resting on the windowsill and called it a day, much earlier than usual, after being unnerved by the question posed by the stranger who had just departed.

Her long black hair, streaked with gray, brushed against the strings of crystal-like beads as she shuffled through the doorway from the Healing Room to her living quarters where she slowly plopped down in her recliner.

There was a time when the Healing Room, just big enough for a couple of comfortable well-used stuffed chairs and a small round knee-high table between them, had been used for business, but now that she lived by herself, and the years were creeping up on her, she decided to give up the business.

The Open sign was only there as an indication to those who passed by that she was up to having friends visit, many of whom had once gleaned her mind at the local botanical garden where she had volunteered as a resident self-taught herbalist.

She had half feared and half welcomed this day, the day of reckoning with that decision she had made in what seemed like another lifetime, before she resorted to move to the outskirts of the small burg of Dunsmuir where she felt she could hide from her indiscretion and impulsive act in Maumee, Ohio and also forget about the dangers that completely shook up her life in Mendocino.