Waves of haar rolled in on the witching wind. Evening birdsong died away. For the first time ever he dared take her hand and she held his tighter than he had ever hoped. In silence they stood and walked away, glad of the quiet mist. Tomorrow the sun would shine.
Fireworks carved white scars across black sky, silhouetting bright behind dark battlements. And fireworks behind her eyes. There, look! The girl she loves is back, she’s back! But the fireworks faded as she pushed her way through the smoky crowd and she saw it was not her. Not her. Again.
We stood on the doorstep, flames flickering behind us, and watched him walk away. He did not turn around.
‘Who was that?’ I looked at my mother. ‘Why did he smile and call me his?’
‘All in good time’, she said, her voice strange, and put her arm around me.
“Life’s a beach”. It was the third time she had walked past in that t-shirt and this time she was smiling. I twisted, waved and caught my hand in the sunbed. I looked down. Saw blood. Fainted. I woke up lying next to her. She had fainted too.
50-Word Fiction Competition for Scottish Book Trust
The youngsters were pitching horseshoes on the green. Dino’s caught the peg, caught, spun and settled. The boys stared as a rainbow shone up from where the shoe lay, up, up and down again beyond the horizon of the hills. As one, they stood and walked towards home.