Flight of the Pink Ribbon

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (~200 words) based on a photo prompt (above) provided by Alastair Forbes. Click the pic for his site. Click the blue guy at the bottom to view more tales and/or add your own!

I kissed 10-year old Maddie Albright inside a little nook of rocks during a heated game of hide-and-seek some twenty years ago.  Standing here now, like I do every year, I can still smell the curls that blew across my face with a pink ribbon and tickled my ear when I stole that kiss.  We were ten and I’d always known she was special but she was never to be mine.  I was too young to know what love was. Hell, I was just a pup. I loved ice cream but that was altogether different and ice cream didn’t give me butterflies in my stomach like Maddie did. I got older and Maddie just got prettier in my eyes. We were always friends but nothing more and that kiss behind the rocks remains my favorite memory. We can’t choose who we love and we certainly can’t choose who loves us back. We went our separate ways, Maddie and I. I wandered the world and thought of her often though I never saw her again.

A gust blows up over the hilltop while I pull a pink ribbon from my pocket and hold it by the tail for a moment watching it flutter and fight for release. Granting its freedom, I watch it tumble and crash off the rocks before twisting and writhing away down the hill falling end over end.

What a waste of a beautiful thing.

 

 

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Comments

Flight of the Pink Ribbon — 10 Comments

  1. What a beautiful and sad tale. I remember when I was ten and I kissed a girl, Jenny Jones (that is not her real name). I went home and told my mum I was going to marry her. This girl that is, not my mum. That would just be wrong and I am sure my dad would have something to say. Anyway. we left primary school (ages 5/6 to 10/11) and went to different secondary schools (10/11 to 15/16/17). After we left that school, I wondered where she went. I went to where she had lived but they moved and the current occupants didn’t know where to. SO for the next 30 years I wondered on and off what Jemny was doing and where she was gone.

    Last year, I was sitting in a café talking to my sister about something or other, and this woman sitting on the table beside me said “Are you Alastair?” I said that I was, and she said “I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Jenny Jones and we went to school together” Apparently she had seen me around several times and didn’t know how to approach me. So now we chat regularly.

    • Thanks, Al 🙂
      How cool that you got a chance to reconnect with Jenny Jones! I’m not exactly sure where this tale of Maddie sprang from. There are 43…err 44 years of memories rattling around upstairs so I’m sure there’s a Maddie/Jenny or two in the mix. I’ve gotten some feedback on this particular story asking why Maddie had to die…I don’t think she necessarily did 😉 Maybe it just reads that way. The alternate ending (an alternate ending for 200 word flash fiction?) was the voice behind him saying, “My mum used to put pink ribbons in my hair every day as a child.”

  2. Descriptive memory, it sounds like it was from yesterday. Ending made it sound unimportant to lose Maddie or it was time to let go of the memory..

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