Friday Fictioneers 30 5 14

I’m having issues with WordPress at the moment: having lost three haiku yesterday due to the site ‘overwriting’ old data over new, (!?!), I am more than a bit dubious as to not only the state of my laptop, but the site itself. I’m pretty sure it’s only my machine, but I hope this doesn’t get lost as well!

Following on from my post last week – see  for context – for the first time, I am continuing the tale, but popping back in time a little…

I spot the bicycles leaning against the wall and cannot help but narrow my gaze at the town, hazy in mid-afternoon happiness and ignorance. The suit is too warm in this weather and I loosen it, spitting bitter words under my breath to any who don’t want to hear them, cursing their platitudes and palmed condolences as I struggle with the tie.

The clock-tower falls silent.

I hear the organ start, four years to the day, to the hour, of our wedding, but the tune is wrong.

Stony faced, I turn and our tread moves us from Earth to Heaven.



11 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers 30 5 14

  1. This is beautiful and takes a few readings to get the full effect. I especially liked ‘spitting bitter words’, and the ignorance of the town to the grief of your narrator. I feel sad, but a sort of floaty sad which isn’t at all unpleasant. Excellent stuff.

  2. I like the “happiness and ignorance” line – I think you have a typo a little later “any who doesn’t”, not “don’t”. But yes, this story survived the evil computer behavior (pretty sure they are trying to kill us sometimes!)

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