FFP #2 - Marching Through Edinburgh Snow

This week I am participating in +Becket Moorby's Flash Fiction Project, which is using images as daily writing prompts.

And, I am days behind already....

This was Monday's image, courtesy of Martin Burns via Flickr Creative Commons (Attribution Link).

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What sadness brings these good men out into the cold. Huddling and with heads bowed in silence, marching with their memories one step at a time. Retracing days of old, when each we met and rejoiced for finding another ever so slightly askew.

The Fearsome Foursome we called ourselves. On long walks and in café talks, barking our philosophy of religion and politics and sex. Such heady days and nights always accompanied by throbbing music, always boisterous and overbearing, and always with many a drink put down in the village pub.

So needless to frown now, even though how inappropriate one of our light go out so soon. So needless to doubt, for I am a force to reckon with, to beckon and tease and entreat you with.

Here. I will stand on a bench with my arms out and waving and swirling about like snowflakes in the air. Hear. I will call out loud and clear for you, "Behold!"

Behold.

The quadratic becomes triangulated, but nay my dearests. I am still with you. Always and wherever you are together. There I go too.

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