February 2026 Brief:  ‘Write a love story.’

The Loving Maze

It was one of those long, still summer days of youth.  So hot, it seemed as if the air itself was softly smouldering.  In the afternoon, we walked from Richmond to Hampton Court, enjoying the coolness of the river and then wandered in the Palace gardens, relaxing in a languorous, comfortable companionship.  When we came to the maze the shaded tranquillity of the tall passages of green laurels tempted us within.

We choose our path randomly at each junction.  Hand in hand, we were simply happy to be lost together.  Eventually we stumbled upon a clearing where a bench welcomed our arrival. As we sat, I laid my head against my partner’s shoulder, sleepy from the day’s heat.

I awoke to soft voices, fluttering past like butterflies, ardent in the heavy air.  The woman,  her gown a delicate brocade of gold, wore pearls that caught the sun like drops of water.  The man, tall and severe in a black doublet, rested one hand on the hilt of a fine sword.

“My sweetest Anne, you must no longer delay.”

Cheeks pale as ivory, she nodded and her surrender was as graceful as it was absolute.

A rustle of the laurel leaves signalled a sudden breeze, cold and unexpected. It chilled me to the bone. The couple turned, his arm on her waist, as their forms dissolved in the green corridors of laurel.

I asked my love if he too had seen them, or if the hollowness in my chest was mine alone.  But he said nothing, only softly pressing his lips against the nape of my neck. The gesture was so gentle, so intimate, it seemed like the loving caress of an executioner’s blade.

I have returned many times to those same twisted paths but have never seen that couple again.  And in the hot summers yet to come, I know that I will return many times more.  I will be glad though, should I never come to find them.

(This received a Highly Commended)