The empty platform – prosery for dVerse

He’d never spoken to her, but this time, in his uniform, would be his last chance, and he intended to use it. He patted his pocket. The poem he’d written her was there.

The train pulled into her station, and he stood at the window, looking to see where she got on. Nothing. No one left and no one came on the bare platform.

She had to run the last quarter of a mile after her bike got that stupid puncture. She was going to speak to him today. All the young men were being called up – who knew when he’d be gone?

She reached the platform as the train pulled out. She clocked his uniform and gasped, ran faster, reaching for him. Too late.

Just something white – a piece of paper – fluttering from the open window – a butterfly set free.

I’m hosting Prosery for dVerse tonight – 144 words of prose, incorporating a line that I get to choose for you! I’ve chosen a line from “Adlestrop” by Edward Thomas – No one left and no one came On the bare platform”. His death at Arras in 1917 has obviously influenced my thinking tonight.

27 thoughts on “The empty platform – prosery for dVerse

  1. I really like the parallel stories with that missed opportunity… I really hope that the butterfly poem would find her with its words… but that uniform made me think that he left for war. I can really see this as the beginning of a longer story, and see him coming back from the war…

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  2. Sigh….a bit of romance for a blustery rainy Boston day. Just a very sweet, melancholic story…that piece of paper fluttering from the open window. Optimist that I am, I somehow think it floated upon the breeze and ended up at her feet. She picked it up and….there you have it! 🙂 I like happy endings!

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  3. I love the dual perspective, Sarah. I’d like to think the male protagonist is Edward Thomas, since he had written a poem. I like that he has confidence in his uniform. What a shame she missed him – stupid puncture! – I love the image of the piece of paper fluttering from the window. Sadly, if it is Thomas, he won’t be coming back..

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  4. The image of a tossed poem, just a scrap of school paper fluttering in the steam and blow back from the train, like the feather in FOREST GUMP, tore me up emotionally. I was conceived in the back of a Buick, and my paratrooper father did come home, but he never looked up my mother. His family and mine both lived in Puget Sound less than 20 miles from each other for 75 years. Thank God for Ancestry.com. Yours is the perfect flash fiction.

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  5. Like a butterfly but missing the mark. I find it so sad, his leaving and her not having gotten the chance to read the poem too

    Happy Monday, stay safe

    Much🌼love

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