Purest Fiction: A Parade and a Hero

Fiction for Friday, , , , , 3 Comments

 

 

Purest Fiction: A Parade and a Hero

As the author staggered downhill under her load, a turquoise convertible rolled by. She grinned, having taken childhood trips in an identical car.
One block from her apartment, a city worker placed sawhorse barricades across the street. The turquoise convertible idled behind them, and the dark-haired driver leaned out and spoke to the city employee. Then he shrugged, and turned toward his passenger. The redheaded woman braided her long hair.
She wasn’t near enough to make out their conversation, but the mystery partially resolved itself when the author heard a marching band. After a deep breath, she stepped forward. A parade was nothing to cause worry. It’d hold the attention of everyone on the street. As she approached the corner, the author paused for a few moments.

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Purest Fiction: Off Ramp

Fiction for Friday, , , , 5 Comments

Purest Fiction: Off Ramp

The fog resolved to steady drizzle, and she didn’t know which was worse. The woman pressed close to the guardrail. Her shoes slid in the bluestone chips and crumbling asphalt on the margin of the road. There was the familiar hiss of tires on wet pavement, and she fought the panicky desire to freeze.

Comparative safety was yards ahead.

With a mighty roar, the dirty semi moved past at the speed limit. Its draft made her stagger and the water thrown up by its wheels spattered her glasses. If she survived walking farther up the road, she could lean on the “road closed” barrier that blocked the off-ramp and put the suitcase down for a moment.
“Either someone has a sense of humor, or life imitates fiction,” she said to a robin that perched on the fence pole and shook water from its wings. “I’m as homeless now as Ruarri ever was. I chose this red suitcase in a moment of hope, and look at me.”

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