Sign of the Thymes (June 2008)

Just a little story I submitted for the “What’s Your Story?” competition at Waterstone’s. Feedback will be very welcome!

October was cold that, and the unsympathetic rain cascading over the windshield did nothing to ease his mood. The sign gradually became clearer with the grumbling of the rusty Fiesta; “The Thymes Bridge”. Pulling slowly to the side of the road, a sigh escaped the driver’s lips. Barely in his thirties, he looked as decrepit as the car; unshaven, unwashed and in dire need of sleep. The headlights dimmed, and the engine died.

Eventually he emerged, gingerly stepping from the car. He pulled the coat tight around his quivering body, a poor defence against such unforgiving weather.

Guilt had made the last three years seem like an eternity, with each visit becoming harder to bear.

Moving to the waters edge, he crept along, pushing his weary body against the elements until he reached the base of the bridge. Stooping, he began a ritual that had played out in his head endlessly, muttering a few private words to himself before tentatively heading back to the car.

Leaning against the bonnet of the car, the man’s head drooped. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I’m so sorry”. A few feet away, at the base of “The Thymes Bridge”, the wind and rain beat down on the flowers left by a man with nothing left to lose.

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