Welcome to the two hundred and seventieth in this series that is ‘5pm Fiction’.
Late April 2011 I discovered StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011. I have since published (as eBooks) the 2012 and 2013 collections, detailed on http://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/books-mine/short-stories/story-a-day-may.
I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s was to write a story in second person-viewpoint using the title of ‘Date Night’. Here is my 258-worder.
Date night has become a weekly tradition you look forward to. Thursdays. When others go out with the lads… the girls… it’s just you and Evelyn. Your French Fancy. You think it’s corny but she finds it funny – even after all these years.
She acts differently on a Thursday morning. More loving. Like a teenager, even. She becomes your Frisky French Fancy.
You’re a private couple and go somewhere different each time so no-one remembers you but always classy, expensive. You pay cash as if it’s going to impress but the only one who feels differently is you.
A young man with an ice bucket of individual red roses stands at the table and wishes you a Happy Valentine’s then asks if you’d like to buy a flower “for your lady”, which you gladly do, even though you’ve bought her an expensive bracelet.
You order steak, medium-well done, Evelyn has trout, and you talk about everything and nothing; your work, the children – you still have plenty to say.
Sharing a caramel roulade takes you back to your first date and you mention it. She stops smiling and you see a tear forming.
“Je suis désolé,” you say, putting down your fork, and signalling for the bill.
You pay and leave the restaurant in silence, remaining so as you walk to the car park.
You kiss her cheek and she smiles briefly.
You open her door and she says a “merci”.
You watch her drive away, back to her family, and you get in your car to return to yours.
Photograph above courtesy of morguefile.com.
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Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group
Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group
Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group
Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group
Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group
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