In case I haven’t mentioned it enough times already, I am participating in a weekly writing prompt over at The World of My Imagination. It has been hugely fun for me to come up with a piece of micro-fiction each week and good practice as well. Normally, my writing is rather long-winded and this gives me a chance to tighten it up.
The story needs to include the following five words: Wallet, Circus, Kid, Cruise Ship, and Slide. (Isn’t that really six words?)
Tracks of Love
These two parallel rails of iron are the only link I have to my love. Each day I rise with the sun and follow them, hoping that she will be waiting for me at the next station. My steps are lightened with the memory of how we met at the circus. Hour upon hour of treading along the rails is quickened with day-dreams of our union.
Up ahead, the morning light breaks through the trees and reminds me that I haven’t eaten in days. Pulling out my wallet, I check my available funds and find that I have none. The last of them must have gone to buy that sandwich in
That’s alright. My heart tells me that today will be the lucky day when my journey ends and a life of marital bliss begins. Just thinking about it sends me into a panic as I quickly check my pockets for everything I’ll need when we meet again.
Breath mints? Check!
Engagement ring? Check!
Tickets for the cruise ship that will whisk us away on romantic waters? Check!
As I clear the grove of trees that cluster around the track I see the train station up ahead. My legs urge me to run, but the station is still miles away. Eventually, I give in to their incessant stomps and burst into a sprint.
The power of love is so strong that I run without stop all the way to the station. I leap up on the platform and slide to a stop in front of a man reading a news-paper. He lowers the paper and looks at me. “What’s the hurry, kid?”
The . . . circus.” My words are forced out between breaths. “Is it here?”
His words go unheeded. On the wall behind him is a poster. Not only is the circus in town, but my love is displayed prominently on the advertisement. For several minutes I drink in her beauty.
When at last I return to my senses the man with the paper is gone. Not that it matters; I’ve found what I came here for. I have found the Bearded Lady.
There you have it. This is what happens when I write a love story.