Nashville, TN, USA

©2017 by Jen Holloway.

Romantic Fiction

Creative Writing Sample

He guided me around the gate, moving some branches aside with his arm. Beyond the fence was a rough, gravel road. We walked down it perhaps a little more than a quarter of a mile, and he veered off to the right. Following a smaller footpath, we walked a short way until we came to a clearing with a pretty little pond. He nodded his head, “There,” he said, indicating I should spread out the bundle, so I did. He put the little basket down, sitting on the blanket, and took my hand, pulling me down next to him. He opened the basket, producing a small cloth that he unwrapped to reveal some croissants and pastries. A little box held butter, and a small jar of preserves. Next, he produced a small knife, two small plates, and a couple of fabric serviettes. He also retrieved a couple of bottles of water and juice, which I guessed were the purchases from the petrol station. “Well,” he smiled, handing me a plate, “what do you think?” He gestured to the pond, where a small flock of ducks had landed, swimming and quacking back and forth to each other.

“What a nice surprise!” I leaned forward, kissing him quickly, and took the plate from his hand and choosing a croissant from the pastries. 

He put a sweet pastry on his plate, pulling a bit of it and stuffing it into his mouth. “In Denmark,” he started, then opened one of the water bottles, taking a sip, “this is something my family does. We take a picnic and go to a game preserve to hike and see the wildlife. Sometimes we go fishing,” he chuckled, “well, you know I am a master with a fishing net now.” We both laughed. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?” 

“It’s lovely!” I exclaimed. “I feel a bit overdressed,” I said embarrassed at my clothes.

“No, no, that is why I picked this place. The path is good and not very long.” 

“We have places like this back home, you know,” I offered. “I don’t usually go to the wildlife preserves – I hadn’t thought of it, really. I like to hike, though, and sometimes go with my friend and her kids. We have state and national parks, quite big ones, with all sorts of outdoor activities. Hiking, kayaking, canoeing…”

“Canoe like the boats? You like that?”

“I like kayaking better, but I’ve done both. Kayaking is all about the hip action, you know.” I winked, wiggling back and forth in demonstration.

“Ahh, so I find my lady is a little adventurous too, yes?”

“Maybe a little.”

We continued to eat our breakfast, watching the birds soaring and dipping in the sky above the water. As we ate and grew quiet, listening to the sounds of the wildlife, I noticed the sound of little frogs chirping. 

“Ahh,” he leaned in, whispering, but clearly excited, and put his mouth close to my ear so I could feel the heat of his breath tickle my neck. “Do you hear? Those are the little frogs – the real frogs I mean – calling to each other.” He looked to see my expression, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, before pulling back and taking another bite of pastry.


I realized then that perhaps he wasn’t out for a fling after all. He was sharing himself with me. His family traditions, his favorite places, and stories from his childhood…he was opening himself up to me. I thought back to other conversations we’d had over the months since we first became acquainted. He had told me how much he loved early jazz music and lost generation literature. He shared that his favorite dessert was chocolate, and he loved Christmas markets. I felt so much closer to him for the realization. 

 

Romantic Fiction

Creative Writing Sample

He guided me around the gate, moving some branches aside with his arm. Beyond the fence was a rough, gravel road. We walked down it perhaps a little more than a quarter of a mile, and he veered off to the right. Following a smaller footpath, we walked a short way until we came to a clearing with a pretty little pond. He nodded his head, “There,” he said, indicating I should spread out the bundle, so I did. He put the little basket down, sitting on the blanket, and took my hand, pulling me down next to him. He opened the basket, producing a small cloth that he unwrapped to reveal some croissants and pastries. A little box held butter, and a small jar of preserves. Next, he produced a small knife, two small plates, and a couple of fabric serviettes. He also retrieved a couple of bottles of water and juice, which I guessed were the purchases from the petrol station. “Well,” he smiled, handing me a plate, “what do you think?” He gestured to the pond, where a small flock of ducks had landed, swimming and quacking back and forth to each other.

“What a nice surprise!” I leaned forward, kissing him quickly, and took the plate from his hand and choosing a croissant from the pastries. 

He put a sweet pastry on his plate, pulling a bit of it and stuffing it into his mouth. “In Denmark,” he started, then opened one of the water bottles, taking a sip, “this is something my family does. We take a picnic and go to a game preserve to hike and see the wildlife. Sometimes we go fishing,” he chuckled, “well, you know I am a master with a fishing net now.” We both laughed. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?” 

“It’s lovely!” I exclaimed. “I feel a bit overdressed,” I said embarrassed at my clothes.

“No, no, that is why I picked this place. The path is good and not very long.” 

“We have places like this back home, you know,” I offered. “I don’t usually go to the wildlife preserves – I hadn’t thought of it, really. I like to hike, though, and sometimes go with my friend and her kids. We have state and national parks, quite big ones, with all sorts of outdoor activities. Hiking, kayaking, canoeing…”

“Canoe like the boats? You like that?”

“I like kayaking better, but I’ve done both. Kayaking is all about the hip action, you know.” I winked, wiggling back and forth in demonstration.

“Ahh, so I find my lady is a little adventurous too, yes?”

“Maybe a little.”

We continued to eat our breakfast, watching the birds soaring and dipping in the sky above the water. As we ate and grew quiet, listening to the sounds of the wildlife, I noticed the sound of little frogs chirping. 

“Ahh,” he leaned in, whispering, but clearly excited, and put his mouth close to my ear so I could feel the heat of his breath tickle my neck. “Do you hear? Those are the little frogs – the real frogs I mean – calling to each other.” He looked to see my expression, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, before pulling back and taking another bite of pastry.


I realized then that perhaps he wasn’t out for a fling after all. He was sharing himself with me. His family traditions, his favorite places, and stories from his childhood…he was opening himself up to me. I thought back to other conversations we’d had over the months since we first became acquainted. He had told me how much he loved early jazz music and lost generation literature. He shared that his favorite dessert was chocolate, and he loved Christmas markets. I felt so much closer to him for the realization.