| Romance Fiction posted April 8, 2016 |
  |
Romantic fiction.
A Find Most Rare.
by write hand blue
Gorey Castle.
Jersey at night.
A FIND MOST RARE.
BY
WRITE HAND BLUE
♦♦♦
JERSEY'S ANNUAL 'ROUND THE ISLAND WALK'
TO BE HELD ON SATURDAY JUNE 14 1969.......
Jeffery waited, and as the bus approached the trafic lights his eyes met for a few seconds with an attractive young lady passenger. Unable and unwilling to look away he savoured every milli-second of the encounter. Feeling a little guilty he froze on the edge of the road as the bus moved past to reveal a large banner. A strange excitement stirred inside him as he read it, and he knew what he must do. He would later describe this as a definite compulsion, a guiding hand of fate.
"How long is the walk?" he asked his friend.
"Twenty eight miles of mostly roads, and you visit each of the twelve parishes."
"That's me, I've got to do it!"
"Jeff, you haven't trained, it will be hard going."
He would have none of it, "This is something I must do."
♦♦
Originally from the North of England Jeffery Banks had only been in Jersey a few months. He considered himself fortunate to have been offered (through a friend) a well paid job in his trade of textile maintenance fitter on this beautiful, peaceful and tax free island. This was a great place for a twenty-year-old where income tax was zero, bars and dance halls were cheap, and the entertainment free. With petrol half the mainland price and all dutiable items like tobacco and luxury items free of tax he was on a winner.
♦♦
I'll let Jeff tell you in his own words.
On the following Saturday at 7:30 am with a pair of borrowed hiking boots, I found myself in the middle of a large crowd of walkers assembled across the esplanade, opposite the Grand Hotel, St Helier. We set off at a brisk pace, but soon some brave souls in running shoes and shorts disappeared into the distance. The town was left behind as we headed east along the coast road. After two miles we walked past the most southerly post office in the UK.
I was left with plenty of time for thought about this new feeling of continual excitement. Perhaps it was just the walk that was responsible for that knot in my stomach, or perhaps my pleasure at being able to raise fifteen pounds for charity. This tension was not me at all.
The walkers had thinned out by then and I found myself with just one man for company. He introduced himself as a freelance sports correspondent.
"I'm on holiday with the missus. Been doin' this for years now."
"Saw you limping there," he said as he picked his teeth, "Do you want me to tell you how you stop that happening?"
I nodded. "You pee on your feet the night before. Leave it on as long as you can. Old army trick that is."
My nod was automatic as I tried to visualise five thousand runners soaking their feet at once. You can imagine how grateful I was for this untimely piece of information. For some reason I noticed he wore a pair of army surplus shorts down past his knees. These were way out of fashion.
I reached Gorey Castle and headed inland towards the North coast. The realisation hit me after about fifteen miles that I should have trained for the walk. The beautiful countryside proved a distraction from my blistered feet.
The weather was bright and sunny as we traversed the headland. In the far distance you could see the islands of Guernsey, Sark, Herm and Alderney. The clarity was such that in your imagination you felt you could reach out and touch them. Although well travelled in several countries by this time, I had never seen anything as spectacular as this wonderful scene. For a moment I felt as if I was witnessing something personal and very special indeed.
The feeling travelled with me towards the West of Jersey.
I passed by Greve de Lecq, this was my first sight of the gorgeous bay, and would become a favourite of mine.
After twenty-five miles I hobbled down to the ancient harbour of St Aubin. Preoccupied with the effort, the Red Cross tent beckoned me. I entered and stopped dead—my eyes were immediately drawn to a pretty and well-spoken young lady helper.
In shock and unbelieving I stumbled like a zombie. This was the one—that very one on the bus. She sat me down. With great care she removed my boots. As she peeled bloody socks from my feet a slight grimace crept across her face. I was immediately attracted by her kindness and genuine concern. She leaned close, her perfume delightful, I chanced a look at her name tag... Candice Marie Rice—Jones...
Our eyes met and we both looked away, a little embarrassed. My heart rate rose to dangerous levels. Her manner remained the same as she offered me a plate piled with sandwiches.
"Oh please do have some," words softly spoken by a godess.
I did notice her hand shook just a little. All I could manage was a, "Thank you," because a nurse came to patch up my blistered feet.
The last three miles seemed to take no time at all. My mind occupied by a certain young lady.
I asked around and it transpired that she was the daughter of a local doctor and Jersey born. She worked nearby in an office. So I made sure to 'accidently' meet her at lunch times. It wasn't long before we were an item. I was so proud and amazed that she was interested in me.
On that day I found a very rare diamond♦♦♦
♦♦♦
"Found" Flash Fiction Contest contest entry
Gorey Castle.
Jersey at night.
A FIND MOST RARE.
BY
WRITE HAND BLUE
♦♦♦
JERSEY'S ANNUAL 'ROUND THE ISLAND WALK'
TO BE HELD ON SATURDAY JUNE 14 1969.......
Jeffery waited, and as the bus approached the trafic lights his eyes met for a few seconds with an attractive young lady passenger. Unable and unwilling to look away he savoured every milli-second of the encounter. Feeling a little guilty he froze on the edge of the road as the bus moved past to reveal a large banner. A strange excitement stirred inside him as he read it, and he knew what he must do. He would later describe this as a definite compulsion, a guiding hand of fate.
"How long is the walk?" he asked his friend.
"Twenty eight miles of mostly roads, and you visit each of the twelve parishes."
"That's me, I've got to do it!"
"Jeff, you haven't trained, it will be hard going."
He would have none of it, "This is something I must do."
♦♦
Originally from the North of England Jeffery Banks had only been in Jersey a few months. He considered himself fortunate to have been offered (through a friend) a well paid job in his trade of textile maintenance fitter on this beautiful, peaceful and tax free island. This was a great place for a twenty-year-old where income tax was zero, bars and dance halls were cheap, and the entertainment free. With petrol half the mainland price and all dutiable items like tobacco and luxury items free of tax he was on a winner.
♦♦
I'll let Jeff tell you in his own words.
On the following Saturday at 7:30 am with a pair of borrowed hiking boots, I found myself in the middle of a large crowd of walkers assembled across the esplanade, opposite the Grand Hotel, St Helier. We set off at a brisk pace, but soon some brave souls in running shoes and shorts disappeared into the distance. The town was left behind as we headed east along the coast road. After two miles we walked past the most southerly post office in the UK.
I was left with plenty of time for thought about this new feeling of continual excitement. Perhaps it was just the walk that was responsible for that knot in my stomach, or perhaps my pleasure at being able to raise fifteen pounds for charity. This tension was not me at all.
The walkers had thinned out by then and I found myself with just one man for company. He introduced himself as a freelance sports correspondent.
"I'm on holiday with the missus. Been doin' this for years now."
"Saw you limping there," he said as he picked his teeth, "Do you want me to tell you how you stop that happening?"
I nodded. "You pee on your feet the night before. Leave it on as long as you can. Old army trick that is."
My nod was automatic as I tried to visualise five thousand runners soaking their feet at once. You can imagine how grateful I was for this untimely piece of information. For some reason I noticed he wore a pair of army surplus shorts down past his knees. These were way out of fashion.
I reached Gorey Castle and headed inland towards the North coast. The realisation hit me after about fifteen miles that I should have trained for the walk. The beautiful countryside proved a distraction from my blistered feet.
The weather was bright and sunny as we traversed the headland. In the far distance you could see the islands of Guernsey, Sark, Herm and Alderney. The clarity was such that in your imagination you felt you could reach out and touch them. Although well travelled in several countries by this time, I had never seen anything as spectacular as this wonderful scene. For a moment I felt as if I was witnessing something personal and very special indeed.
The feeling travelled with me towards the West of Jersey.
I passed by Greve de Lecq, this was my first sight of the gorgeous bay, and would become a favourite of mine.
After twenty-five miles I hobbled down to the ancient harbour of St Aubin. Preoccupied with the effort, the Red Cross tent beckoned me. I entered and stopped dead—my eyes were immediately drawn to a pretty and well-spoken young lady helper.
In shock and unbelieving I stumbled like a zombie. This was the one—that very one on the bus. She sat me down. With great care she removed my boots. As she peeled bloody socks from my feet a slight grimace crept across her face. I was immediately attracted by her kindness and genuine concern. She leaned close, her perfume delightful, I chanced a look at her name tag... Candice Marie Rice—Jones...
Our eyes met and we both looked away, a little embarrassed. My heart rate rose to dangerous levels. Her manner remained the same as she offered me a plate piled with sandwiches.
"Oh please do have some," words softly spoken by a godess.
I did notice her hand shook just a little. All I could manage was a, "Thank you," because a nurse came to patch up my blistered feet.
The last three miles seemed to take no time at all. My mind occupied by a certain young lady.
I asked around and it transpired that she was the daughter of a local doctor and Jersey born. She worked nearby in an office. So I made sure to 'accidently' meet her at lunch times. It wasn't long before we were an item. I was so proud and amazed that she was interested in me.
On that day I found a very rare diamond♦♦♦
♦♦♦
 Recognized |
|
As required by the competition rules.
1. The weather's been very good. No discernible wind, no storms. I think I got lucky there.
2. The Martian. By Andy Weir.
3. 999 words.
I looked at two books then chose the third... The Martian. It was purely the words that gave the inspiration and not the book. The following is a fiction story using the minimum of words...
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 1. The weather's been very good. No discernible wind, no storms. I think I got lucky there.
2. The Martian. By Andy Weir.
3. 999 words.
I looked at two books then chose the third... The Martian. It was purely the words that gave the inspiration and not the book. The following is a fiction story using the minimum of words...
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. write hand blue All rights reserved.
write hand blue has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
