A slow burning fuse


It didn’t start out all fireworks and loud-speaker marching band music.

The fire kindled tentatively.

A cautious and shy blaze, a tiny tickle in my stomach. That funny feeling that comes when a car goes over a rise in the road too fast. No roller coaster drop of frightening apprehension, but a perfect shiver from an unexpected thrill.

Heady tremors of excitement when hands touched or with a brush of warm lips against a flushed cheek. A quickening heart when he was near, or a loss for words at the sound of his voice.

A small gasp, a school-girl blush, a perpetual smile, set off a slow burning rocket fuse. Lit long ago, a wildfire of oohs and aahs rained down to crash smoldering back to earth as white, hot embers.

A mere whisper, a soft-breathed word, can still set the fireworks aflame.

This week’s Studio30 Plus prompt is “Fireworks,” and/or “Fairgrounds.”

10 thoughts on “A slow burning fuse

  1. Oh Tara. I loved this. It was like a series of snapshots. You can tell you’re a photographer at heart, as reading this was like looking at a photo album glancing from one perfect image to the next!


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