First Time by Fiona Mackintosh


Friday night he’s outside the chip shop with the lads, shoulders hunched against the east wind blowing off the sea. As she comes down the street laughing with another lassie, his palms grow damp. The lads caper, blethering in Monty Python voices, showing off. Soon her friend has a bus to catch, and the lads drift away, but she lingers.They share a bag of warm chips, hardly talking. He walks her home through the dark wynds, and up against an ancient wall, he turns to kiss her vinegar lips. Behind a listing headstone in the kirkyard, they struggle with zips and buttons, gasping and laughing when bare skin touches cold grass. Afterwards, he walks along the beach, slithering on the rocks in the dark. In sudden remembrance of the marvel of it, he stops in his tracks to bay his jubilation to the waxing moon.

***

Fiona J. Mackintosh is a British writer living in Washington D.C. Her short stories have appeared in The Washington Review, Metropolitain, District Lines II and III, Platform for Prose, Found Polaroids, and Gargoyle Magazine. She is a two-time winner of the Ad Hoc Flash Fiction Contest and has won the TSS Flash Fiction Competition.

 

2 thoughts on “First Time by Fiona Mackintosh

Leave a Reply to David Wiseman Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *