He courted me online. Sent me airfare from Paris to Boston. Met me with flowers and a grin. We sped out of the city, not slowing down until we crossed the Bourne Bridge onto Cape Cod. Small towns appeared and disappeared until we reached Provincetown. Shifting into four-wheel drive, he maneuvered through a maze of sand dunes, finally reaching his secluded shack. The one he’d so romantically described. For three glorious weeks we made love under down comforters and hiked the deserted beach. Off season was best, he said.
On April thirtieth, he muttered “you’re not enough.” He walked out and left me stranded, scared to death. For how can I be sure I shall see again the world? On the first day of May, I got the nerve to climb up the nearest dune. I hoped the world was on the other side.
Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Today Merril asks us to use a line from Sara Teasdale in our prose: “For how can I be sure I shall see again the world on the first day of May.” We can not change the words – must use them exactly as written. However, we may change the punctuation.
The Bourne Bridge does indeed separate Cape Cod from the mainland of Massachusetts. Since 1998, we’ve spent two weeks every year at Provincetown, at the very end (tip) of Cape Cod. We usually take the fast ferry direct from Boston – it only takes 90 minutes – and we usually come in September. However, because of another commitment, we arrived in Ptown on Saturday and will be here until May 21st. Definitely off-season. The ferry isn’t running yet so we took a bus. After the bus crossed the Bourne Bridge, we did indeed ride through many small New England towns before we spied the National Seashore coming in to Ptown. done A number of years ago we did Art’s Dune Tour in his 4-wheel drive. He takes you way out and up and down all the dunes. To this day, there are still some very secluded artist’s shacks in the dunes.
Above image by Jan Aldrich has been cropped showing a sand dune and part of an artist’s shack on the National Seashore.
Photo below is of me today on our morning walk at low tide. Chilly but still beautiful.
lillian the home poet 
Oh, what a wonderful and sad tale. I can imagine how it feels to be so isolated together and then suddenly left alone…
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A sad tale, and almost sort of dystopian after that wild, passionate beginning. Have a wonderful vacation, Lillian! And thank you for joining in while away. 😊
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It seemed more and more like a true story to me! Then I read the notes…so well-crafted, really…
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Romantic yet frightening. Too be abandoned like that…
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A great story, Lillian. Aren’t you glad your man still goes with you behind the dune!!?
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I think she is lucky to have gotten out of that one alive. It could have been so much worse. Good storytelling, Lillian.
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I love the courage in your flash fiction. The photos are also lovely. Thanks, Lillian.
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Oooooo, I thought the ending was going to be gruesome/nasty because of the remoteness! Hope she found the way home!
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Started with a smile and then ended with my lips on an inverted curve. such a sad but close to truth tale.
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Ooh, that’s so sad and unsettling. And such a switch from romantic setting to fearful. Very well drawn.
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Excellent.
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Sheesh! Talk about FICKLE, Lillian! What a jerk that guy is!
❤
David
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