A little pothole along the road to failure

As you may recall (but probably not) I shared a very short story (100 words precisely, in fact) that was entered in a NYC Midnight competition about a couple of teenagers kissing on a train.

If you missed it (and who could blame you?) here it is again

****

Love On The Way Home From School

I remember the world thundering by. Our destination almost upon us.

The rattle and rumble of the tracks like gunfire above which we hear only each other’s thoughts. She takes my hand in hers.

School bags at our feet. For these were simple times. Or seemed so.

A shock of air through the carriage as we hurtle into the black cocoon of the tunnel. She leans forward to kiss me.

Then suddenly into the blinding light of the station. She is on her feet. Smiling. Suppressing a giggle. And then gone. Until tomorrow.

For as long as tomorrows might last.

 

****

Surprisingly, the judges had an off day and awarded it a 3rd placing and thus ushered me into the 2nd round where they required a drama about injuring a knee and including the word ‘line’. Likewise a maximum of 100 words

This is what I wrote,

****

Leaving Home

She glanced back only briefly towards the cottage where she had left the note for him to later read in habitual drunken rage.

A line of trees, planted with her naïve optimism of twenty years previous, marked a boundary obstructing her view to the road and beyond. Stepping through it, in the fading light, she stumbled over a fallen branch and felt the wood piercing her skin, but it was only in the taxi that she noticed the little stream of blood trickling from her knee.

“Does it hurt?” the driver asked.

“No,” she whispered, “I can’t feel anything, anymore.”

****

6 thoughts on “A little pothole along the road to failure

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