I was supposed to spend this evening writing some articles
about online bingo and line editing Dwarfed, but I got distracted by a shiny
new story idea.
This short story is the result of two ideas colliding together. Last week's Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. kept conjuring up an image of a young man with a roll of wire over his shoulder, which I combined with a Goodreads writing contest prompt, London kiss.
This is a very dirty draft, so I'm sure you're going to find some grammar, punctuation, and style flaws. I beg your forgiveness. I appreciate all comments and criticisms and will give each one due consideration. Particularly with regards to the end, which I'm not happy with.This short story is the result of two ideas colliding together. Last week's Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. kept conjuring up an image of a young man with a roll of wire over his shoulder, which I combined with a Goodreads writing contest prompt, London kiss.
Collision
A wide band of orange separated the dark
blue sky from the even darker earth, as Travis stomped out of the old
farmhouse. The screen door shut behind him, splitting the air with a rifle like
crack as it slammed against the frame which caused Conway, the old blue tick to
lift his head and peer at Travis with sleepy eyes. Travis’s boot heels beat a
steady tempo against the warped wood as he hurried across the sagging porch
towards the truck parked alongside the driveway.
Conway heaved a heavy sigh and pushed
himself to his feet and trailed after him towards the barn.
Travis made it to the barn. He managed
to pull the door open and drop the heavy roll of wire over his shoulder without
giving into the urge. It wasn’t until he tucked the heavy pair of leather gloves
and other tools into the battered leather saddlebags before his hand slipped
into his pocket pulling out the slim phone he’d tucked into his jeans. His finger’s shook as he flipped the phone
open.
A ball of molten lava filled his
throat, swelling until he could barely breathe as he stared at the image on the
screen.
To anyone who had grabbed the phone
from his hand and glanced at the photo they wouldn’t have though much about the
picture. They wouldn’t have thought it looked any different than any photo of
the London tower most tourists snapped on any given day.
Most wouldn’t notice the girl who stepped into
the frame just as Travis snapped the photo. If they did they might comment on
how pretty she was. They might comment on the fact that her purple flip flops
and thin tank top wasn’t really appropriate attire on what was clearly such a
rainy day. One person, Travis’s sister-in-law, looked through his vacation photos
and commented on how the girl must have be a very silly kind of person to not
have noticed him taking a picture.
No one would have given her more
than a passing glance.
Yet her image consumed Travis. Even
when he wasn’t holding his phone, he saw her. Her slightly blurred had been
branded on his retinas.
He’d been home for months, but he
couldn’t stop thinking about the way her dark hair flowed around her shoulders
as she jogged up to him, or how her bright smile didn’t quite erase the sadness
shadowing her brilliant blue eyes as she stepped close to him. He felt the way
her nails scrapped against his, before tangling in his hair, tugging his face
down as she tilted hers back. His body vibrated in memory of the way she
pressed hers against him, so close that not the slightest whisper of air fit
between them. The scent of rain mixed with her raspberry shampoo as she braced
all of her weight on him. A heartbeat later, all thought fled his mind as her
lips connected with his, and his soul became hers.
An entire lifetime of happy moments flitted
through Travis’s mind. He’d never been surer of what the future held. In that
moment he knew his heart belonged to her.
A wide smile curved her lips, slightly
more swollen than they’d been a moment earlier. This time it seemed to brighten
her entire face.
Drowning in her eyes, Travis racked
his brain, struggling to come up with something to say, wishing for the first
time in his life that he had a talent for spinning words into poetry.
The girl didn’t seem to mind his
silence. The fingers of her left hand played at the frayed pocket of his jeans
as she rose up on tiptoe, brushing her lips across his before leaning close to
his ear.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her
breath washing over his skin, causing his hair to flutter. “That was perfect.”
“Mmm,” Travis hummed. He dipped his
head, going in for another kiss, unable to resist the way they tasted of caramel
coffee and strawberry lip gloss.
The world shifted.
The girl nipped at his lower lip,
and rocked back. Travis had never been so aware of the space separating people.
Her fingers lingered on his chest, just over his heart, for a split second
before she took a step back.
His shock was so intense, Travis
couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t chase after her. He simply
stood and watched as she jogged through the rain, her flip flops snapping
against the bottom of her feet. By the time he found his voice, she’d been
swallowed up in the crowd, and Travis didn’t know where to begin searching for
her.
She’d been in his life just long
enough to turn his world upside down.
Conway whined and swiped his paw
against Travis’s thigh, jerking Travis from his memories and back to the
present. He needed another moment to adjust to the bright morning sunlight and
dusty farm.
Travis’s eyes narrowed. For as long
as he could remember, Travis had loved the farm, but since she’d stolen a kiss
and a piece of his heart farming hadn’t held the same appeal. He simply went
through the motions.
Shifting the loops of wire to a more
comfortable position on his shoulder and dug into his jeans pocket, removing a crumpled
piece of rose pink scrap of paper from its depths. He opened it carefully, and
stared at the writing. The only thing scrawled on the paper was a combination
of numbers, Travis assumed they were a phone number. Since he hadn’t seen the
paper prior to the kiss, he concluded the girl must have slipped the paper into
his pocket before she bolted.
Travis’s thumb hovered over his
phone’s keypad, brushing lightly over the keys as he studied the phone number.
The idea of typing the number in caused his stomach to twist into a knot.
Grunting in disgust he shoved the paper
and phone into his pocket.
As he swung up onto the tractor
seat, Travis found himself wondering if it was fear or common sense that had
once again prevented him from making the call. He pondered if he would ever use
it.
More, please! He's gotta call!
ReplyDeleteI'm curious about what happens next, and might have to go back and see where this story leads. Thanks for reading it :)
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