Fly Away Peter

Story written by Richard on Tuesday 29, June %16

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A flash fiction piece (290 words) on schoolday memories.

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Fly Away Peter I liked to sit near the window and look out over the playing fields to the rows of terraced houses that cut across the hillside like the fillings of a layered cake. Miss Morgan’s history lessons would barely begin before I’d seize on an image and fly with it, up over the hill to seek my own adventures. I climbed on to the wooden scaffold and snatched the lovely Anne Boleyn from the sweep of the Frenchman’s sword, then fought my way through the London streets with her at my back. I was a young surgeon at Balaclava, working tirelessly in rolled-up sleeves and blood-soaked apron to help the pioneering Miss Nightingale. I cut through the bonds of Joan of Arc to save her from the flames, and we galloped away on a white charger... “Peter?” Miss Morgan touched my arm and I looked up into her brown eyes, savouring the faint fragrance of lavender. She gave a rueful pout and brushed the hair from my eyes. “Silly boy,” she crooned. “You’re day dreaming again, aren’t you?” I opened my mouth but no words came out. She was Anne, she was Florence, she was Joan. She was Woman. I was nine years old and in love for the first time. End

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  • "I liked to sit near the window and look out over the playing fields to the rows of terraced houses that cut across the hillside like the fillings of a layered cake."- This is a run-on sentence. You may want to fix it.

    That said, a wonderful vignette about boyhood.
    - July 24 2021 22:40:33