Flash fiction

I have been so caught up with life, and house moves and holidays that writing and the blog seemed to take a lessor place in my life.  Clearly this has to stop!  Today I wanted to kick start writing again and so wrote this piece of flash fiction.  Its hot off the press and a bit rough and ready so any feedback gratefully received.  Enjoy.

I knew when I rolled up the piece of paper and tucked it into the cranny way up on the top of the Yorkshire crags of Malham Cove that it wasn’t true.  I was enchanted, yes.  Yorkshire always brings out the wistful in me – I feel both at one with the universe and so separate from it when up on those rocks with their precipitous gray walled drop, but I wasn’t enchanted with you.

When you said, “let’s write a love note to each other to find next time we are here” I went along with it because I had no alternative really.  I knew we wouldn’t be up here together again and that although I probably would be, it would not be with you. I knew that anything I wrote would be an untruth but obviously, I couldn’t tell you that.  It would be too awkward and you would be hurt and right up there on top of the Malham cliff you would get all hysterically dramatic and we would argue.  So, I wrote “I love Anna” and drew a smiley face and a heart even though I think smiley faces are a bit naff.  You wanted to see my note but I said that they should be private things which would probably dissolve in the wet and become a part of the landscape.  I said I thought that was nice and you reluctantly agreed that it was the most romantic thing to do.  You wanted a bit of a ceremony.  I watched your beautiful face with its cold chilled pink cheeks look at me so lovingly when you rolled your note into a little cylinder and place it deep into a crack between the rocks and said a little poem.  ’Your turn!” you said.  I too rolled the small piece of paper up and tucked it into the landscape.  “For Malham and Anna, forever” I said and that made you so happy.

It was so peaceful and still up there on the rocks.  In summer it is always busy but in late autumn there are few people around, a rock climber or two and a few sheep but the winds blow cold and it keeps folk from making the long climb up.  Today, there was just us and a few birds.  We sat on the edge, taking in the spectacular view and you leant back, snuggling into me for warmth.  You always smelled of cinnamon.  Contentment glowed from you and made me sadder than I had ever felt before.  If only you would notice but you never did.  Were you avoiding the obvious or did you really not understand that I did not and would not ever love you?  It had to end. I had to end it.  It wasn’t fair on either of us.  I pushed.  You lay on your back on the valley floor, eyes open looking 300 feet up the gray cliff face and at me.  Your cheeks still looked pink and contentment still oozed from you.