The Lone Stranger - Flash Fiction

She wasn’t concentrating on her walk to work this morning; cars, vans, lorries, thundered by. She was oblivious, her mind elsewhere, trying to unravel this conundrum. That’s what she did; she puzzled, she dwelt – she avoided.

It started when she found the old shoe box in her grandfather’s attic. Avoiding the pain of his loss, she’d busied herself packing up chipped vases, dented old tankards, other belongings, each one telling stories of age and frailty.

The box had housed piles of yellowing, old photographs. Blurred, grainy images; a Victorian-era portrait, so ‘proper’; a wedding in WWII soldier’s uniform…their lives through the years, each inscribed with a place and date.

Except one. A man on a horse. With the words, “The day it began”.

She had pinned them to her wall at home, losing herself in them, sensing a connection, but only seeing it last night.

Looking away from camera, walking off-shot, turning away, in the background; in every photograph a man, dark haired, scarf around his neck. Always, whatever the date, the exact same man. The man on the horse.

She stepped out to cross the road, immediately deafened by the blaring horn, and screeching breaks. Turning, she saw the car careering towards her, such speed, simultaneously in slow motion. Next she was flying through the air, conscious of strong arms around her, landing back on the pavement, winded, beneath someone.

Opening her eyes she saw him in crisp, high-definition, realising immediately who he was.

“You!”.

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This story was for last week's FlashFriday - the prompt; an old-fashioned photograph of a man on a horse.  We had to keep to 250 words exactly.  

I'm linking up my words to Emma's #WednesdayWords - please take a look at her beautiful poem this week, and send lots of positive vibes her way.  She's a very brave lady.

Races - #MagicMoments

To run, free, and fast,
To giggle and to laugh.

To forget our cares,

To ignore the stares

Of strangers passing by,

Questioning, wondering why.

We all needed this.

And the prize? A mummy kiss.

Forgive me a little cheat this week?  I have lifted this from yesterday's A morning walk post.

It had been a tough week with poorly children, broken nights and frightening asthma.  

We headed to the local racecourse for a sponsored walk in support of the charity I work for.  Through the fatigue and weariness it had felt a bit like a chore, but we were so glad that we went.  Daddy and the children played horse races, which was met with fits of giggles!

We all relaxed, laughed, forgot the bags under our eyes.  

In a week that had been such hard work, this was a wonderful, magic moment.

Linking up to Jaime's #MagicMoments:

A morning walk & an empty nest

Tired, crotchety and scratchy after a week of colds, broken nights and asthma, we headed for our local city racecourse this morning.  The charity I work for was holding a small, community, sponsored walk.

It felt like an effort to start with; just leaving the house felt exhausting.  Did we want to do this?  With piles of ironing on the rocking chair, floors that needed mopping, stairs that hadn't seen the hover all week, this walk felt like another burden, and a luxury, at the same time.

The fact that it was supporting a cause I truly believe in, clinched it.  

We set off.

Walking down the avenue of trees in the dappled shade, the children enjoyed a bug hunt.  

"Immention, [Roh's word for imagine], mummy, if we found a spider that was really this big".

My son, ever the academic, carefully completing his trail form.

The river on one side, the racecourse on the other, we walked, we talked, we shouted, we laughed.

In the distance, the faint ringing of Cathedral bells, calling people to worship.

And we had our own moment of reflection, letting the river wash away the stresses of the week.

It was time, then, for races on the racecourse.  

To run, free, and fast,
To giggle and to laugh.
To forget our cares,
To ignore the stares
Of strangers passing by,
Questioning, wondering why.
We all needed this,
And the prize? A mummy kiss.

Time to head home, legs were starting to ache.  

A beautiful morning; not a chore, or a burden, but uplifting.  Sunshine on our faces, wind in our hair, spirits soaring.  

Being outside; so healing.

And once home?  A chance to rest our feet and feel replete:

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Last week I wrote about discovering a nest of robins in our shed.  

On and off this week we have watched mummy and daddy labour tirelessly to bring worms to their chicks.  We have tiptoed to shed window, and been greeted with incredible sights, of chicks snuggled up and sometimes of them sitting bolt upright, staring straight at us:

Then on Friday the time came.  In the morning just one was up and hopping about, while the other three watched intently from the safety of their nest.  

By the afternoon, the nest was empty. The birds had gone.  We found one taking shelter just outside the shed under the plant pots, before venturing up on top of them:

Mum & Dad stayed close by, coaxing them to shelter under bushes, out of harm's way.  

Until, yesterday, when we could no longer see them.  

Their time with us was over; what an honour and privilege to have seen this family grow and spread its wings.  

All that is left now is this:

Is it soppy to say that I had tears in my eyes, as I thought about my own chicks growing up so fast, and that one day they too will fly the nest?

Linking up with Coombe Mill's #CountryKids.