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Yes I’m late, I blame the clocks going forward. Anyway, moving on, here is The Canada Goose. (Yes, really :-)).

The Canada Goose

She put the last touches to the snowy landscape, smiling at the result.
Then he was behind her, the serene moment shattered as he snorted.
‘Here, some post came for you,’ he said handing her what was obviously junk mail. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘It’s a Canada goose,’ she clipped.
‘Looks more like an over grown pigeon.’
He walked out of the room chuckling, pleased with himself.
She decided to escape, go into town.

Looking through the bay fronted window of the new travel agent, she saw two women carrying a large advertisement for the place she had always wanted to visit, Canada.
‘Special deal! Too good to miss!’ It declared.
Standing in front of the window, she thought of all the things she hadn’t experienced. They hadn’t had children because he hadn’t wanted them, they hadn’t travelled. They’d had no life at all really. The realisation of this suddenly hit her in the stomach as if it were a physical blow. She saw one of the women looking at her with concern in her eyes, and she moved away, embarrassed.
When she got home, he was snoring in the armchair.
She went upstairs and threw a few things into a suitcase. Then she pulled out a dresser drawer and feeling underneath it, she took out an envelope, it contained £8,200 and a passport. Then she grabbed the picture, covered it, then carried the lot back to her car.
Sitting in the High Street cafe, a tap on the window next to her startled her. Looking round she saw Tom, a fellow painter. He looked very handsome; wearing a light blue checked shirt, open at the neck, and a lovely blue linen jacket.
‘Hi,’ he breathed as he sat down in front of her. ‘How are you?’ He was looking at the items around her.
She suddenly felt foolish, wondering why she hadn’t left her things in the car, and she blushed. She felt sad, small and foolish.
Picking up on her distress, he moved round next to her, once there he put his arm round her and gave her a squeeze. It felt good, and that made her feel even more upset.
‘Is everything ok?
She looked into his brown eyes and saw nothing but compassion. He gave her another squeeze.
‘Look, why don’t you come to my place, I was just headed home. I won’t pester, you can just take a bit of time and have a bit of space to think things through.’
At a loss as to what else she would do, she nodded in agreement.
He stood up and picked up her case, she picked up the painting. He lifted the cover slightly.
‘Ah lovely, you’ve finished the Canada Goose, I’m glad. What a wonderful painting.’
‘You know what it is?’ she asked surprised.
‘I do. It’s one of my favourites. I have a special interest in wildlife, I’d love to visit Canada one day. How about you, ever fancied it?

So, the last day of the month, and that means it’s time to publish my attempt at Feb’s flash fiction piece. 500 words on the theme of Love.

Love
She sat down on the grass and nestled her back into the trunk of the large oak tree, until she had found a comfortable position.
The early afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees and branches, the rays warmly caressing her youthful skin. Her hair shimmered, the colour of palest wine and her brown eyes had a depth to them, like the earth she sat upon.
She took in a deep breath and then sighed slowly and contentedly whilst running her finger tips, as softly as a lover’s, through the grass and tiny daisies she sat upon. A fast flowing stream nearby was chattering away to the rocks submerged in it; telling them it’s secrets and dreams. There was an intermittent drone of mayflies, as they flew near her and then flew away.
Her father’s castle stood like a young warrior at the top of ae hill to her left. She looked at the castle with mixed feelings, it was her home, yet it had always felt like a prison to her, until now.
Two months ago, she had been a young naïve girl, giggling in corners with her sisters, acting like a child; talking of courtly love with eyes wide with expectation and dreams. Then a party of knights, fresh from the Holy Wars had arrived to pay their respects to her father. She had heard the arrival of the group while she had been sewing with her sisters and ladies, and while it caused great excitement amongst them all, she was the only one brave enough to investigate this distraction from the daily monotony.
She had crept down the curving stone steps into the great hall and seen the group being attended too by the servants. Arriving nervously at the bottom, one of the younger knights had turned to face her and everything else around her was forgotten.
Her dreams exploded into reality.
The rise and fall of her emotions had scared her; there was the uncertainty, the surety, the belief and the doubts. What emotion was this? To throw her heart around as if it were a ship on the sea. It was raw. It was pure.
Then one morning she awoke to find that he had gone. But that was just as he said it would be.
He had left at daybreak to tell his family of their marriage plans. The wedding notice had been posted on the door of the church, and today he would return and they would be wed.
So, here she waited under the tree where he first kissed her. Her sisters were also watching, from the tower, and she saw one of them suddenly pointing. Then she heard the thunder of hooves, building as they approached. She jumped up and there in the distance was her love riding back to her.
She waved. He slowed his horse as he saw her and grinned. Waving back, he trotted his horse up to her, he dropped from the saddle and pulled her towards him.

Now I’m going to propose something really random for next month – The Canada Goose!
It’s something that I’ve just briefly mentioned in another story I’m working on, but it gave me the idea for short to put on here. Fancy trying it as well?