I crossed the arrondissement with grand ideas for posterity, but the monument was too tall for a photograph in a single frame. I back-pedalled, eyes affixed to the view-finder, hoping for the best. And then, I flew off the boulevard.
I awoke to an apparition of gilded flesh and rolling, brown locks rebuking my stupidity in sonorous dialect. Cristina from Seville arrived to work in Barcelona hours before she scuttled her bike to avoid killing me. We subsequently explored the city together; hobbled, on foot.
On La Rambla Christopher Columbus points the way to Andalusia, where my love was born; to monumental discoveries and happy accidents.
This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.
Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).
Have fun and happy writing!