I have been gone for ages and as I draw closer to that wooden bridge, my thoughts race along with the increase of my pulse.

Would you still accept me as I am? I wonder. My limbs torn up from shrapnel’s of an explosion; my sights no longer what they used to be, but still as bright within my heart.  As we slowly trundle past the bridge, the sound of the waterfalls are melancholic melody to my ears.

They wring vivid memories which had kept me warm during the dark days. Of carefree laughs and frolics under the spray of the fall. Of long walks and whispered dreams.

Scott’s unmistakable excited barks and your rum whiskey tones, float to me.

I am home.

In response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Prompt flash fiction

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Image credit: Etol Bagam