Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
I have exceeded this limit today, perhaps as compensation for my no-show last week.
Apologies, mon ami.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.
The hill to the old Abbey is much steeper now than I remember.
As I climb it, I reflect on those halcyon days of youth, when we three pretend musketeers claimed the ruins as our own.
The cloister was home to our fantasies.
It was a pirate ship, a castle, a Comanche camp, a racetrack, a football field and a tennis court.
And in the middle was the old well, where we played a favourite game.
We dropped stones through the grating, and counted till we heard them hit.
Whoever reached the highest number was the winner.
Bill was the biggest, and the best fighter, so he decided the rules.
He always won.
He also won Louise, to my jealous pain.
We all lived in the same street, she was the girl next door.
And what a girl.
She could run and climb and spit as well as me.
But she was smart, did not try to beat Bill.
They were a couple until he left for university.
He came back once or twice the first year, then we didn’t see him again.
Eventually Louise and I dated, got married, raised a family.
But I never believed she forgot him altogether.
When he returned last year, it was quite a surprise.
He was in poor health, and down, if not quite out.
All my old jealousy reared its ugly head when I saw how she looked after him.
And he seemed to take it for granted that she, my wife, was there to care for him.
I guess that is why the hill seems so steep now.
Louise is not very heavy, but I am struggling to get her to the well.