Story Time: The lonely chair

Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.  To see previous Your Story posts click on “Story Time” on the right.


42 responses to “Story Time: The lonely chair

  1. It rained, washing away the evidence of the crime committed on the expansive marble patio. What the criminals didn’t realize is that a grizzled elderly man was sitting on the chair behind the tree, quietly observing, noting pertinent details and smoking his King Edwards cigar.

  2. Is he on the other side? Is there another chair like mine with the one my heart beats for? I’m waiting, hoping. I think i’ve got to move a bit from behind this lovely branch.

  3. As the water rose, she sat, paralyzed with fear. Needing to get to higher ground but mesmerized by the raging creek she couldn’t move. Logically needing to retreat but emotionally being absorbed. Finally a rescuer from nowhere appeared and woke her from the stupor. She was saved and will never forget the experience or what she saw.

  4. Isaiah sat in the same stolen hotel chair by the floodwaters each day, waiting in vain for his bride’s return, kneading the hair ribbon between finger and thumb for hours.

  5. This reminds me of my black and white photo of the rocking chair on the back porch of and old building that lead to hiking trails nearby. A place for quiet, peaceful, meditation and self reflection. Who am I really? What have I done lately to help others? Looking out over the beautiful panorama of the valley, marveling in the greatness of God and His amazing creations. But that would be me. I know, it isn’t a story for your photo, but mine, sorry. Love your photo though! 😀

  6. she watched though the window
    waiting for his return
    the emptiness she felt inside
    only matched by the lonely chair

  7. Story Time: The lonely chair.

    I was wandering in the garden, and I went to the lake. For my surprise I saw a small place, very different of any other ones and there’s a chair. The lonely one, so as I was with a white paper and a pen and decided to sit there and write down my lovelorn. When I finished my story and I read it completely I felt such sadness and fell asleep. I never woke up and my body was never found, but my story has been read.
    Aang Lewis.

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