Flash Fiction February - A "Norwegian" Hobby
This flashfic is inspired by a prompt posted on 15th February 2022 by the Writer’s Digest to write about “a hobbyr”. This story is just under 600 words. Enjoy!
Alice liked hiking. So much so, three months ago she booked herself out of her rent, work and family obligations for a full year so she could hike the full length of Europe with nothing but the bags on her back. So far, she’d seen many things – beautiful skies, beautiful landscapes, beautiful cities. Today, however, was the first time she stumbled upon an undeniably beautiful man.
From his accent, she guessed he was German or Dutch, but he started to talk to her in fluent Swedish, his legs sprawled out over the edge of a Norwegian valley, a pleasant smile gracefully taking in her incomprehension. As a full-blooded Brit and a useless linguist, Alice’s brain ran into several critical failures when he asked sweetly for her name.
“It’s Wonderland Guide,” she said, voice buckling.
He laughed, adjusting his grip on his camera. “An alias?”
“It’s the hiking culture.” Her words felt detached from her. Just like her body was every time she went out walking.
“I see.” His long legs shifted a little against the rock beneath them. “Make sure you’re careful around here,” he said, almost apathetically. “There are many things wandering around that are unfriendly.”
Unfriendly.
She wondered if this was a betrayal of his first language or just the way he liked to talk. She wondered if he liked stalking around, spooking strangers with ghost stories. Oh, well, at least he might make an interesting afternoon.
Seizing the opportunity for a break, Alice set down her bag and took up a position beside the beautiful man. Privately, and hopefully without his notice, she tried to decipher what about him seemed so appealing to her. Was it his sharp jaw line? His piercing eyes? The way his jacket sat around his shoulders? She reckoned he was probably like the dramatic Norwegian landscape, which milled about in the background of his silhouette: beautiful in its culminative angles, mundane in its basic elements.
“Can I see?” She pointed at his camera.
He grinned and bumped shoulders with her as he came in close. He angled the small screen towards her and navigated his camera roll via a small cross of buttons.
Alice leaned in, squinting to get a better look.
An ordinary stream. Some rocks. Clouds streaking across the skies. A woman stood in the grass.
“Wait –”
He paged back.
“What was that?”
He smiled, mischievous and bashful, eyes meeting hers as if to share an established joke. “One of the things I mentioned,” he said, pleased.
Alice eyed the image again.
There was something strange about the way the woman stood. Alice couldn’t decipher it through the fog closing in all around her and the sweeping nature of her gown. Her bare arms twisted in the cool winter light, as if in a dance. There was something so... unnatural about it.
“When was this taken?” she said, watching him cautiously.
“Just an hour ago,” he replied. His eyes glittered. “Maybe a little more than that now.”
Alice frowned. There hadn’t been any fog for all the miles she could see coming up on the valley. Hell, the last time she saw fog must have been in early September.
“What is it –” she searched for the words. “What is it you do up here, anyway?”
He laughed again, withdrawing his camera and bringing up one of his knees. He draped an arm around it and pulled it close to his chest. Still amused, he looked out over the valley at the odd little town in its basin.
“Let’s just call it a ‘hobby’.”
15/02/2022
To Be Proofread . . .