Writing inspired by 24-Hour Writing Challenge in October 2023

Use these three prompts to inspire a story or a poem (all three must be included):

– A diary (object)

– “I didn’t expect you to remember me” (line of dialogue)

– A bridge (setting)

Meet Me At The Millennium Bridge

by Jasmine Fassl

The bridge creaked in the wind, the cables singing tautly. It was the end of October and the water of the Thames was choppy, boats bouncing on its white peaks. Sarah stood on the South side of the river, by the bridge head, shivering.

She felt vulnerable and unsure standing by the railing, feeling the rain soak into her jacket. This felt different than last weekend, in the warmth of her living room. Back then, when she’d found her old diary and started to read it, cuddled up on the sofa, surrounded by moving boxes.
She was packing up her flat, finally moving out of the city after 20 years of city-living. She had loved her time here. Loved the hustle and bustle of this place, the energy of London. In recent years, however, she’d felt more tired than excited by the brightly-lit pubs and endless parade of shows, museums and happenings. She had wanted to go home, not go out, at the end of a long day in the office. Moving up the corporate ladder at work, the pressure was intense. She loved it, thrived in it and would not have it any other way, but in an evening, she wanted to close the door behind her rather than stay out there.

Finally she’d decided that a garden would mean more to her than being close to a central tube stop. It would mean more to Smoky, her cat, as well. So she’d sold her flat and bought a cottage in a biggish village with a pub, a proper village green and a train station, with good connections to the office.

But this meant, she was packing up her flat, clearing out cupboards and the boxes shoved to the back of them, which had not seen the light of day in years. In a box covered in stickers of bands she used to like and her name, Sarah, in different pens and colours, she found an old diary. She’d sat down on her sofa, and began reading. It was amazing, how instantaneously she remembered how she’d felt as an older teen. Bands, friends, books – much of it came back with an emotional punch.

Towards the end of the diary, Sarah found an entry about a big night out 20 years ago that she had completely forgotten about.

She had been out at a pub and then a friend’s house, where she met a girl, Ruth. They had sat chatting for ages, clutching glasses of red wine in their hands. They shared one of those perfect connections without awkward pauses or slightly boring rabbit-hole-conversations. They talked about life, love and the universe. They clicked. They didn’t exchange numbers, and as both Ruth and Sarah had been friends-of-friends’ guests that evening, they never saw each other or crossed paths again. They had, however, drunkenly, half-jokingly, agreed to a far-flung future meeting. Exactly 20 years into the future, on the South side of the Millennium Bridge in London, at 6pm.

This is why she was now waiting here, in the wind and the spattering rain. Waiting for Ruth and wondering. Had Ruth remembered their agreement or had she forgotten? She glanced at her watch: 5.55pm – 5 minutes to go. Her doubts were stronger now. What if Ruth couldn’t make it? What if she’d moved away? Or worse…?

Sarah looked up and down the walkway, glanced over the bridge. There were few other pedestrians about. Yes, London was always buzzing, but this was a dreary October evening – people would be gathering in homes or in the pub, not strolling beside the river.

All of a sudden, she saw a woman walking towards her, waving. She was holding the hand of a child with a school bag, with a teenager trailing slightly behind. Ruth. It must be Ruth. A smile blossomed on her lips as Ruth crushed her into a hug.

“Sarah! Oh my god. You remembered. You really remembered!”

“I didn’t expect you to remember me”, Sarah said.

“I didn’t expect you to remember me”, Ruth nearly shouted, stepping back to look at Sarah, but not letting go of her arms.

“I did forget, to be honest, but I found my old diary last week and I’d noted it down. I wrote all about the evening we met in that flat, that house party, and our pact. But I was sure you wouldn’t come,” Sarah said.

“I did put today’s date into my paper planner, year after year. And then I added it to my outlook calendar, so I always got my annual notification on my mobile,” Ruth said. “But then I nearly forgot, because Bailey has her dance lesson on a Tuesday.” She pointed at the younger of the two children. “When the notification popped up I only had one hour to get here. But we made it. This is Lucy, my middle one,” she said, pointing at the older child.

“It’s lovely to meet you”, Sarah said to the two, suddenly shy, children. They just nodded at her.

“What about you? I still can’t believe you are here.” Ruth said.

“Why don’t we get out of the wind and rain – maybe get a drink? Or a cup of tea?” Sarah added, looking at the children.

“I’d love to. Let’s walk across the river, there’s a nice place on the other side” Ruth answered.

And with that, she hooked her arm under Sarah’s and the two women, who could not have led more different lives, set off over the bridge, battling the wind, heads together, still awed and delighted by the luck to have found one another again after all this time.