I am trying something a little different this week...Fiction!
Write on Edge/Red Writing Hood's prompt this week is to be inspired by pictures. Of the two, I chose this one and my attempt is below. Feel free to critique.
Jessica had been sitting on the cold iron bench for hours. The thick fog had turned to a mist as the darkness merged into gray. She had remained unseen by the voices and lights that had passed her in the early hours of the morning. The noises had startled her but she remained steadfast on the bench, waiting. She would not be afraid. She was not sure what she would have said or done if those voices or lights had found her in the dark. However, now as the mist lifted she knew that anyone walking by would think she was just waiting for the doors of the church to open for the first mass.
As the early light of day revealed the corners of the square, she wondered how she had been able to sit here waiting, alone. She had counted as the bells in the tower had chimed out the time on each hour and half hour. He was suppose to meet her at one o'clock and she had arrived as the clock was tolling the half hour before. She could make out the numbers on the clock face now and it was almost five am. He was not coming! She would have to leave soon if she wanted to slip back into the house, unseen by the prying eyes of her disapproving roommates. Maybe they were right.
She was profoundly disappointed that he had not come. She had been excited by their relationship, he was older and seemed glamorous, romantic and slightly dangerous. She was going to go away with him if he asked her. All night long she thought she saw him out of the corner of her eye but it was always a shadow. She had worried several times during her vigil that something might have happened to him on his way to meet her. Perhaps he had met with an accident, maybe he was delayed by traffic from Baton Rouge. Traffic at this time of the morning, nonsense! But an accident, she thought, or a mugging, was that possible? She had her cell phone with her and she had called his number but it rang through to voice mail. Where was he? He would never do this to her, something terrible had happened! He wasn't coming. Oh why was she still here waiting for him? Now she was angry!
Jessica was cold and wet as she arose from the bench and looked around the square. The lights were flickering off. There was a dog across the square turning the corner of the building sniffing, searching for some scrap of something left behind by the patrons of the cafe next door. She flinched at the sound of two pigeons arguing about the contents of a plastic bag that was left behind by a careless tourist. She heard the far away sound of trash cans being emptied. The square was coming alive but she was dying a little inside, he had not come for her. She used her silk scarf to wipe away her tears, touching her throat with her fingers, she whispered,