People like to talk about love at first sight a lot. Meeting someone’s eyes across the cafeteria, that frisson of tension, that spark when two souls connect for just a moment. Or that barest of touches when returning a dropped book, skin against feverish skin. I’d had one or two such moments, in my time. But there are other moments of connection, ones that are often overlooked.
All in Realistic Fiction
I missed him. It wasn’t intentional, or good. True, I’d had feelings for him. Even loved him, sometime before he’d become a tyrannical despot, or perhaps while he was on the path. Rose-coloured glasses make it hard to say. So I could see how all this looked.
Finals confrontation
This was it. My breath steamed in the remnants of the early morning chill, mixing with the dew that was rapidly burning off what grass remained on the field. Metal and boots had churned the damp grass to a muddy slurry; everyone looked the same from the knees down. But on our torsos, the colours were still visible. And they mattered.
Safety and sanctuary
No-one knew about the Hamelin Sanctuary, or at least no-one talked about it. Gloria stumbled upon it quite by accident, her fur matted and dirty, paws aching, stomach growling. She’d never known there was anyone living in the forest.
Theatre ghost
The orange tom, with its one milky eye, coughed out a single damp feather. It had to leap sideways to dodge a half-hearted kick from the Great Magician Quilin, which elicited a hiss from the cat and a disproving tut from old Due, who was sitting on his canvas sling chair and sucking on a eucalyptus mint. He always smelled like freshly cleaned library books, or a mucus-y head cold.
Smoke and seagulls
The smoke from the downstairs neighbours was going to get someone killed, Valerie was certain. Whether it was her, coughing and spluttering, or the smoker withering like an abandoned flower arrangement, she wasn’t sure yet.
Snowfall
Waiting for the first kiss of snow to tumble down over the mountains was strange. It was as though the whole town held its breath, caught in the moment between the last orange brown leaf hitting the ground and the first fat white flake floating down from the leaden sky.
Skyfall
Apparently, a long time ago, shooting stars were seen as omens of death or bad luck. When he heard that, Murad was struck by the thought that time had a way of sometimes changing things for the better.
Knock, Knock, Knock
Everyone knew the Vickers house. No-one went near it, because if it wasn’t haunted to start with it surely had to be now. No non-haunted house looked like the old Vickers house.