I love cemeteries. A recent visit to the historic Oaklawn Cemetery in Tampa inspired thoughts about escaping an unwanted destiny; whether that fate is death or something else is up to the reader to decide.
But, here’s hoping that 2021 offers some respite from 2020.
I’m not sure that this piece fits perfectly into any of the challenges that inspired me today. So apologies if I’ve miscategorized things!
All I can say, is that the combination of Fandango’s FOWC (body, which I loosely subbed in “face in the mirror”), Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge photo, and Sammi’s Challenge (to use the word quixotic, which I took as the entire theme) DID inspire me and, thus, this 26-word call and response story / tanka was born. (Side note: I love to throw in a good THUS or THEREFORE or NEVERTHELESS ….)
I’m not sure when I drifted off or what woke me. The birds? Or maybe the chill in the air? Whatever it was, it interrupted a great dream. We were dancing. Just like we did the night we met. I could still hear the fading beats of Crazy in Love in my mind and I fought to fall back into the music. But it was too late. Consciousness flooded in. Ruining my return to sleep. Spoiling my chance to revel in the hot stickiness of that dance floor.
But even awake, I manage to conjure up the thrill of that night. I remember the pounding music and the flashing lights. Seeing you. Surrounded by people. Laughing and twirling like you didn’t see me. But, I knew you could feel the tension running between us. Crackling like lightening in a storm. Pulling us together. Showing me that you were destined to be the one.
I would have happily sat with that thought longer, but my waking reverie was broken by a shaft of light penetrating the trees. Its brilliance illuminating our special place, as if the gods themselves understood the holiness of that night. The light filled me with almost indescribable joy, but it also signaled that morning has come. Time to hit the road. But I knew I’d be back next year. I never visited the others. But even after fifteen years you’re still special. The first one. Our destiny fulfilled.
Tina Stewart Brakebill 