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THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

The Sicilian Storyteller

Revisited, revamped & republished
this 2020 story of mine
for the May 12 Unicorn Challenge
🦄

© Ayr/Gray

On a whim my husband and I decided to ride our bicycles to Tarrytown. The village was not far – a little over four miles. We would stop for dinner at one of the charming cafes.

It was a cool Spring evening; we were comfortably warm in cozy sweaters. Horses grazed contentedly in the fields. A pond reflected the soft glow of the moon and an owl hooted shyly as we passed beneath his tree.

Tarrytown appeared as we rounded a bend in the road, a welcoming light from a café in the distance. We leaned our bicycles against the fence of a nearby church and walked to a romantic-looking bistro. After a delightful meal we happily strolled to the church to retrieve our bicycles for the ride home.

This was without a doubt the most perfect evening we’d ever had!

Without warning the sky started turning black and the wind began blowing. Arriving at the church we were shocked to discover our bikes were gone; we had no choice but to walk home. Suddenly thunder and lightning crackled in the foreboding sky and heavy rain began pouring down on us. We trudged on, swearing with every step we took.

We were drenched, our shoes covered in mud. Exhausted, we argued bitterly about who forgot to bring the bicycle locks. We cursed and screamed vile accusations. Everything turned into an abysmal disaster and we stopped talking altogether.

This was without a doubt the worst night we’d ever had!

NAR © 2023

https://talesfromglasgow137065088.wordpress.com/2023/05/11/the-unicorn-challenge-12-05-23/

41 thoughts on “THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD”

  4. Ring (1) Uber, and (2) your insurance company when you get back home. A couple shouldn’t argue about bike locks. Fight about something important, like put the toilet seat down so I don’t fall into the water at night, or why are your breakfast dishes in the sink when we have a dishwasher, or ….

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  7. Hahaha, Nancy, it looks like a story of a typical Indian couple, who will patch up the very next morning having cuppa tea. Beautifully written story 👏

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    1. Thanks so much, KK. Probably somewhere in Costa Rica or Israel or Canada or even Fiji there is a couple experiencing a similar situation. It’s universal! We fight; it’s the making up that’s important (and much more fun!) ❣️
      Thank you for your very appreciative comments, KK!

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  8. They say a good story gets even better with the retelling. So when you edit/rewrite it next time it will be even more so. 😉

    I can vouch for this: My husband has a set of joke-stories he tells. When he repeats it to new friends we meet, he seems to add a few more words/actions/descriptions to it. Of course I am the only one who knows that. But I must admit the story/joke improves each time. 😉

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    1. That’s an excellent point, Sighs! I really don’t like reposting a piece; I’m afraid it screams “taking the easy way out”. But there are times when an old post fits the bill perfectly. A little nip here and a tuck there and it becomes a story with a whole new perspective. How serendipitous!

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  13. We’re such fickle creatures, aren’t we, Nancy? And your story, with its atmospheric descriptions, shows that splendidly.
    I like the name, Tarrytown. I imagine people in the past arriving and saying, ‘Ah, my dear, is this not a delightful place where we might tarry?’ And settling there. OK, I looked it up and know that’s not what happened, but still… 😉

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    1. Thanks so much for your comments, Jenne!
      Well, if you looked up Tarrytown you’ll have discovered it’s not far from Sleepy Hollow, the village where legends are made. That’s a place you definitely do not want to “tarry”; remember what happened to Rip Van Winkle?! 😉

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      1. Well, that was fun. Just read about the Legend of Sleepy Hollow and you’re right, I wouldn’t ‘tarry’ there! You live in an interesting area, Nancy!

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