August Flash Fiction: Day 18
I love when an image conjures a sense of adventure!
Each day a new post with a picture (with a CC0 license), word count limit, and occasional additional twist will be published at 7:00 am EDT. You will then have until the next day's post to write your story.
You can then either keep it to yourself (a perfectly valid way to participate!) or you can share your story itself in the comments, or share a link in the comments where we can read your story (blog, Instagram etc.)
My daily story will be added to the post under the picture within the same deadline.
Aug. 18 Word Limit: 450
Aug. 18 photo prompt:
Still More to See
“What would it look like to run away from home? I mean, now?” Ben asked, pointing at himself sitting in the booth of the bar, his adult self with the shirt sleeves of his sky blue dress shirt rolled up and his hair neatly combed back.
Alex snorted, “Yeah, I think we all think about running away eh, though maybe not to the circus, like that cloche when we were kids. Be nice to not to pay bills.” He laughed to himself and took a big swig of his beer before plonking the glass back on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What would it look like in terms of what it would take to actually make it happen, or what would it look like to all the people you left behind?” Alice asked in return, studying Ben with a slight tilt of her head.
“That’s a good question. I guess I meant more like, what it would take, like what do you bring with you, what do you leave behind? And I guess that would include people.”
Ben rubs the side of his cheek with a thumb as though to wipe away the frown that’s just starting to form. He smiles instead and offers to go get another round.
For weeks all Ben keeps tripping over different incarnations of the phrase “ran away.” Some sound so very cowardly, “Mike ran away from his duties as a father, that’s for sure,” and “He was too little to stand up and fight so he ran away, tail tucked between his legs.” But some sounded nice, maybe even romantic, “Sorry, my imagination ran away with me…” and “What is wel ran away together, carved out some time for just the two of us.”
What kind of running away was he thinking of?
He was worried he had lost his sense of wonder.
It was the kind of feeling that seemed only treatable by a packed bag.
But there was work, and bills to pay, and…
Ben tightened his grip on his suitcase handle and at least for now, didn’t look back.