It’s been far too long since I’ve tackled one of ‘Timony Souler’s flash fiction challenges, and so when I heard about her #DearValentine event, I signed up immediately.

Over the next 4 Saturdays, my fellow participants and I will be posting short 300 word drabbles based on the challenge prompts.

Week 1’s prompt is simple: A note, a photograph, the docks.

My entry is exactly 300 words long, and is part one of my still-unnamed four part series. Feedback is always appreciated. Finally, be sure to check out the other participants’ work.

-oOo-

“Abandoned”

The ship was a speck against the horizon by the time Pierce arrived at the docks. He was too late.

He could still smell her fragrance lingering in the air, the faintest trace of jasmine and lavender. It taunted him, an unsettling reminder that even he, with his speed and strength and near-prescient senses, was capable of failure.

The cynic in him said that he deserved heartbreak. He had rejected his carefully honed instinct for self-preservation when he decided to pursue her, and all for what? A pair of haunting violet eyes, a sinful mouth, and the most luscious curves he had ever seen? A woman more intelligent, more passionate than any he had ever known?

Self-reproach was useless, for Wyng was perfection. He had been helpless against her from the start. More importantly, she had loved him. He would never believe anything less.

He couldn’t look at the photograph she had left behind; they were too in love, too blissfully happy. Rather, it was her final note, little more than a crumpled mess of smeared ink, that he clenched in his fist.

I’m no good, Pierce. I’ll only bring destruction upon you if I stay.

That was a lie. She had restored him to life, reminded him that there was a world beyond violence and hate.

Forget me, and don’t try to find me.

How could he ever manage such a feat? His chest heaved, as though some imaginary string tied their hearts together and pulled taut, stretching beyond endurance. He couldn’t allow it to snap.

With a curl of his lip, he tossed the note into the wind and climbed onto his motorcycle. The engine revved to life at his touch, and within moments, the docks were behind him.

He had never been very good at following directions.