Flashfiction – an autumn romance

When I first saw her I was mopping up spilt coffee with some old newspaper headline, huddled amidst aromas of fresh, ground beans and damp humanity. The rain had eased; a faint rainbow trailed in the last rays of the autumn sun and there she was – an ethereal phantasm gliding in from some parallel dimension whose portals bled tantalisingly into ours.

Black suede boots hugged the sculpted contours of shins and kissed the wispy, gossamer layers of inky, ebony smocking cascading from a tight waist.  A boned, black corset with fine, silver threading accentuated the soft swell of her breasts.  Her hair a flowing halo of golden silk spun up in some unseen breeze, face glistening with star dust and dramatic, sure strokes of theatrical make up.

I felt like she had bottled my last breath and released it to swim about her as some eternal, tormented spirit.  Then she was gone amid a throng of umbrellas and passers-by.

That evening, as the howling wind cast occasional spatterings of rain against my beaten windows like sea spray focused in a squall, my doorbell chimed three times.

On my front step were three flushed, beaming faces, the first caked in glitter and hiding a pretty pink tutu with ruffled frills under a waterproof poncho.  The sodden, ballerina pumps were presumably the insistent footwear choice of the grinning child before me. 

Next along was the youngest, a golden ringletted boy stamping in the shallow puddles and sporting a costume of green and brown felt with matching elfin hat and homemade, bamboo and string bow slung across his jiggling frame. Lastly some anamorphic wolf grasped a laden, grimacing, pumpkin bucket of candy!

“Trick or treat”, the little monsters sang disharmoniously.

“Got any sweets?” the ballerina questioned.

“Annabel, play nice!  Sorry”, and there she was, topped off with a black, velvet, witch’s hat, her hand steadying the young Robin Hood.

“Hello” I stammered unoriginally.

Her doe brown eyes locked with mine but I was the one caught in the proverbial headlights.

“Coffee?” I offered.

“No, candy!” the Prima Dona piped up.

“Thanks but it’ll keep them up all night!”

“Tomorrow then?  I know this great place.  I go there a lot to think and read.”  She smiled warmly.

“Six o’clock?  That’s about the time I usually see you there, right?”

“Great!  Brilliant, yes!”

She’d noticed me?

The wolf-cub growled softly, “Oh yes, candy!”