The Unicorn Challenge.
A magical new weekly writing opportunity from her – Jenne Gray – and me.
Visit her blog every Friday to see the photo prompt, and post your amazing story in her comments section.
Or on your own blog, and stick the link down in her comments.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt.
That’s it.
To hear me read my story, just click here:
Friends
Nostalgia.
It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it, almost but not quite sad.
It doesn’t hit me as I stroll through the village where I was born, where I went to school, where I fell in love for the first time, where I haven’t been in almost thirty years.
Until I see the boat.
Fiona’s boat.
Then that summer comes flooding back, the summer before I went to university in the city far away.
Well, it seemed far away back then.
That summer was long and sunny, as summers are for the young, and we – Fiona, Stewart and I – lived it to the full.
The Three Musketeers.
Not very original, I know, but we were inseparable, together for the entire time, with so much of it spent on that little boat, out on the great sea loch, fishing, drinking, talking, laughing, sharing dreams.
And falling in love.
But three is, obviously, an awkward number for lovers, so we avoided that last great step, stayed friends, all three of us.
Until, I suppose inevitably, as the summer drew to an end, as the day of my departure loomed, the subject was raised.
It was Fiona who spoke.
‘We all care about each other too much to keep secrets. I think it’s time we admit who we love.’
Eyes meet, heads nod.
She stretches out a hand.
Stewart and I reach at the same time.
Our hands clasp.
‘Oh,’ says Fiona.
‘Sorry, Fee,’ we both say.
She never sailed the boat again.
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I’m smiling too!
Then I’m happy, Chris!
I was guessing a threesome that ended in disaster or dissolution, but this twisted to lovely!
Just not for Fiona!
keep your severe acne, pre-pubescent night-terrors, nun-inflicted physical abuse
the first triangle! ayiieee
the proof of the ingrained cruelty of the architect of a certain Garden
fun story
It seems triangles are seldom eternal, Clark…
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Ah — that unanswered question of whose hand Fiona reached for. This story made me smile.
If you’re smiling, I’m happy!
On one will ever know whose hand she reached for. I feel for both the young men and the loss of young love.
Young love is all too often fleeting, Tessa
I wouldn’t know as I made such a mess of mine.
A bit of a surprise there …. for Fiona and for us.
I wonder whose hand she was reaching for; a moot point now.
Nice piece of romantic nostalgia, CE.
Thanks, Nancy, glad you enjoyed!
Delightfully unexpected twist.
And yet so fitting.
A beautiful word picture of nostalgia.
Still smiling…
Thanks, Jenne, it kinda surprised me too!
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