The sun glistened still on the water, the mist hung low in the sky.
The calm before the storm?
The sun glistened still on the water, the mist hung low in the sky.
The calm before the storm?
We bonded quietly, content in the moment as the stream rushed alongside us and the moss squished beneath our toes.
“But I am such a fun guy,” sobbed the Fun Guy, alone in his home.
“Three Horns never play with Long Necks.”
Land Before Time
Triceratops and TriSARAHtops
Canoe Adventures on Horne Lake.
We are hours from our destination but neither of us care. It is the journey that excites us. It is the journey that matters.
To the left a sleeping giant rests, laying flush across the lake. He stares straight up into the stars, at once ambivalent and awed, still as a mountain.
To the right we congregate around the campfire, exchanging stories and staring deep into the darkness that surrounds us.
A crack sounds from the woods, a broken twig or crunched leaf.
A crackle springs from the fire, sparks flying into the night.
We are at peace.
I came to call but could not fit through the door. Alas, I shall have to eat the cookies alone.
Watch your back.
Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.
I always count the steps as I walk. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
I count all the way to the top as I place one foot down and then the other. Each step is deliberate, careful.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
My eyes flit back and forth, watching the steps while trying to take in the views. Trees, rocks, moss, I see everything that makes this beautiful. I see but do not fully appreciate.
My attention is still on the stairs, on each step bringing me up, up, up. (Or down, down, down.)
I have to count.