"The Garden Of Allah" a hybrid story by Sian Barbara Allen
And a new prompt..
My sister Sian Barbara Allen died earlier this week of Alzheimer’s and our family is heartbroken. Sian worked was Golden Globe Nominated as Best Newcomer for her role in “You’ll Like My Mother” (with Patty Duke and Richard Thomas). She worked with countless Hollywood greats like Bette Davis (see photo gallery below) and Gregory Peck— and is remembered for her roles in The Waltons, Columbo, The Rockford Files, Ironsides, Kojak, Scream Pretty Peggy (with Bette Davis) The Lindbergh Kidnapping Case (with Anthony Hopkins) and other memorable TV shows and films of the 1970s.
What a lot of people didn’t know was that Sian was a remarkable fiction writer and poet. I’m so happy that a few pieces of hers were published online.
In Sian’s honor, and because I believe this piece is just so brilliant, I wanted to offer a prompt based on one of her beautiful stories about L.A., “The Garden of Allah”. I will be sharing more of Sian’s published writing in the weeks to come.
The prompt is this: Write a story in 3 sections that are set in and loosely linked by a particular place, ie Hollywood. Allow the connections to form. Please feel free to post your stories.
To learn more about Sian’s, her obituary is here.
How Small
We pulled up to Khalahanji’s off of Main, the silver domes shining behind iron bars nested in a dull penny neighborhood.
“Don’t worry,” Dave said, “they won’t try and convert us. Krishnas accept all.”
We ate at the restaurant inside the temple, the stone courtyard opened to the city smog, the top of Reunion Tower barely visible above the elephant ears and palms.
The waitress brought lentil crisps while we sipped chai tea. A group of nuns were seated in the shade, their table tented by black habits.
Dave smiled, motioning over to them “See?”
My grandfather said he knew when his time would come, and so did his father, and his father’s father. A canvas sling cradled him as the VA nurses moved him to a new bed in the hospice wing. He said the last time this happened, he was being hoisted out of a million dollar plane, now a pile of rust at the bottom of the Pacific. I tried Google earthing it, but the blue green waters were too vast, the cursor on my screen reminded me just how small I was. I changed the view to Cowboy’s Stadium, though the day the satellite captured it a tarp covered the opening; he and I were still in there together among the white chalked lines and sticky seats, our heads pushing to the surface.
My daughter and I were tossing a ball when it landed in the street. A car slowed down as the passenger waved me on. Throwing it back, my eyes met the driver’s, seated under a frosted head of hair. Their bumper sticker read: Proud UT Parent. My daughter waited by the curb with outstretched arms, her hands still fit inside of mine. We both watched the caravan of clouds overhead until they were washed golden in the distance.
So sorry for your loss Meg, sounds like she led an amazing life, sending thoughts of comfort to your family in this time 🙏🏼