We spin and the world slams still. You, ablaze through darkness. I, hypnotised. A moth to your flame. Your fleeting touch spits charge. Ignites me. Urgent eyes transfix. Yet, as the willow strips, I’m discarded, fluttered away. Gaze broken. I’m lost, left longing for your heat.
This was written for the Scottish Book Trust’s monthly flash fiction photo prompt competition (November). This image depicts a Scottish Ceilidh (traditional formation dance) in celebration of St Andrews day. “Strip the willow” is one of the most popular and raucous group Ceildh dances. The competition runs each month with a different image and is a fun way to get inspired.