Flash Fiction

He stood at a crossing point. From here he could step into three different countries including the one he had just left. But here. Here was no mans land.

The sun baked him until he had to wrap his scarf around his head to keep himself in some sense of cool. With his very dark wrap around sunglasses it would be very difficult for anyone to recognise him and that was how he liked it.

The decision as to which country he would travel to next was not his to make, that would be fate. Glancing around the border straddling town he picked a likely venue and took a table a the formica topped café. Within the blink of an eye, a young girl, no more than twelve summers, appeared as from nowhere to serve his every need. He ordered a large strong sticky coffee and a pipe.

While he waited, he watched. People and their trappings moved through no mans land and seamlessly across the borders. The serving maiden returned with his request. As she arranged the pipe on the table, he noticed a lock of blonde fall from beneath her striped, hooded shawl. He started. He had not seen another palehair like himself for a long time. He reached towards her hair. She flinched automatically, but did not move away. Quickly, he fumbled in his canvas travelling pouch and produced a small gold ball. As he showed it to her, her eyes widened and a delicate wind blown smile crossed her face. She leaned in close and whispered then disappeared inside the café. She told him that her name was faith and that he should head for the far country where he would find sanctuary.

He drank the rest of the coffee and toked a few pulls of the restorative pipe, stood up and headed for a border.