Of all the places I thought I would end up on New Year’s Eve a children’s playground certainly was not on my list. But there I was, too close to midnight, ripping through dead leaves, fallen branches, searching desperately.
A few hours earlier I thought this would be an easy one, quick in and out and I could enter the New Year with a clean conscience. No guilt, no broken promises, my honour intact.
I should have known that would be too easy.
My fingers were beginning to freeze, as my temper headed in the opposite direction. I had to stop myself from cursing too loudly. Even empty, playground etiquette prevailed.
I scrambled to the last corner, praying fervently that the gods would be on my side despite me breaking every resolution I made 366 days ago.
My foot suddenly hit a hollow object. Could that be it? I dropped to my knees groping about in the dark with my hands. They closed around the smooth cylinder of the bowling pin. I almost cried with joy.
Now, if I made it back to the bowling alley before 2016 with this last pin, the $10,000 scavenger hunt prize would be mine.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Week #1- 2016.
Requirements: Create a 200 word flash story using the photo prompt and the provided first sentence.