Time again for ‘Friday Fictioneers’. The addictive weekly photo prompt to write 100 words of flash to beguile and entertain. I don’t always win my objective but the fun is in the taking part. Get yourselves over and join in with Rochelle Wisoff -Fields merry band of fiddlers.
Photo : Bjorn Rudberg
She sat in the corner, part of the crowd but always alone. A heady elixir of age and regret, memories and time, seeped up from the floorboards and a fragrant patina of whisky and rye layered the oak that ran across the bar. She teased her fingers over the grain as the soft lilt of laughter and a long forgotten melody floated in the air.
She turned. It was almost a taste, a scent, a touch to hold onto. Alas, the mist swiftly fell, and she moved back into the shadows. No more than an echo from some other time, some other life.