Campfire romance, young love, tents and camper-vans - a very short story about memories by Rob Hopcott

It was a whim that drew me in; an undefinable urge to revisit an old haunt and to answer a faint but important clarion call from my past. Indecisively, I changed direction onto the country road. But then, as I drew closer, memories flooded in and I realized I was hooked and to turn back was impossible.

But where I'd expected to find a warm welcome and smiling faces, I found a dilapidated gate locked by a rusty chain.

The quaint shops still meandered sleepily up the high street. The light breeze brought exotic scents of spring flowers from the nearby wood, tinged with smells of river mud, where the sailing boats lay at rest until the sea called them again.

Instead of green grass and lines of tents and caravans, I saw piles of earth banked in preparation for building foundations and tarmac roads.

I leaned on the rusty gate and looked over to where our tiny tent had been pitched. I remembered the camp fire at the entrance. I gazed again into the clear blue eyes of the young girl wearing the kaftan and felt the warmth of the camp fire as we snuggled together.

I remembered how we shared a bottle of wine and listened to the bands through the night until the light of the new day brought romantic crimson streaks to edge the clouds of dawn.

Then, unable to find further reason to delay, we closed the entrance of our tent and passed from childhood into our tomorrows.

I heard another vehicle pull up besides mine, the sound of a door opening and then soft steps. A warm body leaned against the old gate besides me but still I did not turn.

To welcome her would have spoiled the memory. She needed her own time to make the journey back into the past and to relive the feelings and emotions that had also drawn her to this old camp site.

After many moments of silence, she was the first to speak:

"I can make us a cup of tea in my camper-van, if you like."

I turned to see clear blue eyes, undimmed by the years, staring steadily all the way from her memories into mine.

I would like that very much," I said. "Perhaps even a bottle of wine later."

"That would be even nicer."

As she led me to her camper-van, I thought how amazing it was, that after so many years.

She still looked wonderful in a kaftan.

The End

(Rob Hopcott - online author - fiction - news)

Copyright Rob Hopcott 2007, all rights reserved. All characters and places in this campfire romance, young love, tents and camper-vans very short story about memories, and other free on-line humor, short stories, flash fictions, micro-fictions, sudden fictions, post card fictions or very short stories on this site, are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise.