Love on the line

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“Ahhh city skyscrapers, city people, city—”

“Gangs,” mumbled young Chanel.

Grandpa stooped down to face her. 

“Come again?”

“Sissy told me that those,” —she pointed at the sneakers dangling on a sign post above— “mean gang territory.” 

“No, child.” Grandpa patted her head. “It means love. When I married Grandma, my groomsmen tossed their shoes up, just like those, and got ‘em hooked on the power line above the church garden.” 

“Are the shoes still there?” Chanel asked.

“Probably.”  

“I’ll throw mine up and maybe they’ll stay forever too.”

“Absolutely not, Grandma would whoop us both if you lost ‘em.” 

New word count: 100

This post was updated to fit the Friday Fictioneers word count goal that I did not adhere to the first time around. The original is below.

Chopping off 1/3rd of the original story was difficult, but a great exercise in brevity and purpose. I had to really hone in on what I was trying to say with this micro-story and leave out unnecessary fluff to get straight to the point.

In the end, I think this succinct version actually captures the point better than my original. Thank you to my fellow bloggers, especially Margaret, for holding me accountable!

“Ahhh city skyscrapers, city people, city—”

“Gangs,” mumbled 9-year-old Chanel.

“What’d you say missy?” Grandpa jerked her arm to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and swung around to face her. She’d never seen him move so fast.

“Say that again,” he said.

“Sss…Sissy ttt-old me those sneakers,” —she pointed up at the collection of shoes dangling on the abandoned sign post above— “means this is gang territory.” 

“No, no, no sweet child.” Grandpa gently patted her head. “Shoes on the line means somebody’s found love.”

“Love?” She cocked her head to the side and scratched between her cornrows. 

“Yes, that’s one of the signs of love, young lady.”  

“You know someone who threw sneakers for love Grandpa?” Chanel raised an eyebrow and smirked. Grandpa was known for exaggerating his stories a bit. 

“More or less,” he winked and eased himself onto the metal railing lining the front stoop of a nearby rowhome. Chanel swayed next to him, swishing the hem of her green velvet dress.

“Back in my day, we wandered the woods” —Grandpa opened his eyes wide— “without cellphones.” 

Chanel gasped and her eyes grew wide too. 

He continued, “the summer before senior year, my boys and I went kickin’ around the pond behind the high school. And that’s when I saw her—”

“Who?” Chanel prodded, switching her feet back and forth. 

“Girl hush, let me finish. There she was…” Grandpa paused and watched Chanel squirm for a moment. 

“It was your Grandma. She and her sister, out splashin’ around in their birthday suits. 

“I hollered to get her attention, but she didn’t hear me. So I jumped in, fully clothed, mind you, and set out to rescue her. 

“After a quick slap and some conversation, turn’s out, Grandma was a way better swimmer than me. 

“We spent the rest of the summer hangin’ ‘round that pond, and I knew I had found the woman I was gonna marry. We tied the knot that next year down at the local church, my boys by my side. 

Some people, after weddin’s, drive off with cans on their cars, ‘Just married’ chalked on the back window. You’ve seen that, like at Uncle Ed’s weddin’?”

Chanel dutifully nodded. 

“Well, we didn’t have a car. So my boys, my groomsmen, took off their shoes and tossed them up, just like those ones, and they got hooked on the power lines above the church garden.” 

“Are the shoes still there?” Chanel asked.

“Probably,” Grandpa shrugged. “Stuff like that sticks around a long time in small towns where I’m from.” 

“I wish I could throw my shoes up there.” Chanel said and kicked the heels of her lace-up black flats together twice, clack clack. 

“Absolutely not, someone’s gonna think you’re a gangbanger. Besides, Grandma would whoop us both.” 

Word count: 470 <—obviously I’ve already forgotten the rules 🤦🏽. These submissions are supposed to be 100 words or less! I hope y’all will forgive me this time and allow me to get it right on the next one 😇.

I struggled a bit with this one. Like little Chanel, I grew up learning shoes hanging on a power line meant gang territory. I did some quick Googling about the origins of that belief after seeing this photo prompt. I found out that there are many other historical meanings, including signifying a marriage, so I thought I’d try to incorporate that here.

Thanks again to Rochelle for hosting another Friday Fictioneers. This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by Roger Bultot. If you want to join or see other stories, click HERE.