Romantic Friday Writers is a blogfest every Friday co-ordinated by myself and Francine Howarth. It is a fun event, showcasing the work of many fine writers who write romantic flash fiction or poetry under 400 words. Click on the icon in my sidebar or the link at the end of my post to check out others participating today or join the blogfest yourself. You will be most welcome. We are also found on twitter. We are @RFWER A winner is awarded the recognition of being the week's Featured Writer.
Here is my entry:
On Top of the Mountain
On top of the mountain was where she wanted to be—leaving behind all her insecurities and unhappiness, her confusion over Tod.
The climb had been hard but the view Paradise.
She twirled round and round like a ballerina then fell in a dizzy heap.
‘Woops!’ She giggled, bathed in blue sky.
She was first.
She never got to be first.
She wasn’t even first with Tod. She knew he’d chosen her because she looked like his first girlfriend.
But today was the best day of her life.
Her confusion was lifting like the clouds on the mountain.
She’d hurried ahead of the walking group even though it was naughty. She was sick of their whining. Sure, it’d been a long climb but what did they expect? All the way from St Jean Pied de Port to this splendid mountain in Spain. What a pilgrimage. What a way to start over.
It was Roderick who riled her big time. He’d been a pain from day one, complaining about everything—the food, the weather, the organisation. 700 kilometres to go til they reached Santiago de Compostela. How could they put up with Roderick for that long?
She was surprised the guide, Rafe, hadn’t sent him packing. But Rafe wouldn’t. He was the nicest guy. She wished it was just her and Rafe, the two of them together. Wouldn’t that be cosy?
Ah Rafe. She pictured his built body, muscled by years of climbing. She pictured his black curls flopping over his eyes. How she’d love to twirl her fingers through those curls!
She put her water bottle aside and took in the blue sky, the mountain range, the haloes of whispy clouds. But she was drawn to the valleys made dark by black shadows. What was it that made her always look down? Did she always have to see the dark side?
She breathed in slowly, savouring the moment. Ah, to be first at last! Would Rafe be impressed?
She heard grunting behind the scraggly bush where she’d propped herself.
She moved the leaves aside and peered closer. She felt a clunk as her heart wound to a stop. Lying spreadeagled, a head wound gushing blood was that whiner, Roderick.
‘Hey, Ciara what have you found?’ Rafe had arrived.
She shook her head. The cloud was choking her.
She never got to be first.
I hope you enjoyed my story for the Confused! challenge. If you'd like to read more, go here to the Romantic Friday Writer's site and click on the current linky.
This story is 399 words. FCA.