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They cling to the branches a little longer this year, and it takes a second storm to scatter them. One rainy morning she rakes them into a pile, and the loamy smell sparks a memory. Abby’s voice caught in the drizzle. “I never know if this is the beginning or the end.”
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Out on the lake, the low plaintive call of Canada geese lingered in the mist, the sound reverberating in the moist air like an echo.
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‘Laika’ Flash Fiction inspired by prompt from Visual Verse written by Jennifer Harvey
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You can also listen to Natalie Winter read this story over at the Mash Stories Soundcloud podcast The Wing Walker We’re in the desert and it’s way more beautiful than I expected. In the early morning light, the sand is dusky pink, a damask rose that folds, dips and ripples like the ocean. I had
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“The trouble with these people is they take themselves too seriously. In fact, they take everything too seriously.” She offered up a half-hearted grunt by way of reply, because she didn’t want to encourage him. If he thought he had her attention, he would keep going, on and on, about this, that and the other.
