For this month’s “Walk the Plank” flash-fiction challenge, the theme is Destination : Vacation. Yes, we’re doing this every month over at the YA Buccaneers, so sail on over to see what else is going on. And if you write your own piece (hurry, there’s only a few days left), you’ll earn an entry into our monthly giveaway. Prizes! Who doesn’t like them? You can read all the rules here.
So, without further ado, here is my little bit of flash fiction. It’s tough, but I’m getting into the challenges now.
I’ve always wanted to go, and so I have. Nothing ever stopped me before.
Except now, the delicious memories of our place—us together in that place, and now not together—make me hesitate. The streets where we walked hand in hand, our hearts so close, enjoying the same views and scents and sounds, are only a means to a destination. They are not beautiful anymore. They are not ours. They belong to the other couples who linger in doorways and in café chairs, laughing.
Where are those little shops we adored? I don’t see them anymore, with their brightly decorated windows and Mendelssohn concertos wafting out onto the sidewalk. They’ve been replaced with dusty huddles that stink of day old coffee and cigarettes that should’ve been smoked outside. I don’t know these places. They weren’t a part of the landscape before.
I wish I knew who changed the colour of the sky there. I’d corner them and beg to know why they sought to meddle with the one place magic resided, why they sought to make it ordinary. At least I was lucky enough to see it once, when it was something more.
I’m so glad I went.
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