Friday, March 1, 2013

Friday Fiction

The wind rushes over the top of the gorge, overpowering even the bird calls.  Deep inside, silence is marred only by the crunch of gravel under her Keens.  There is no sun down this far and she shivers, at once wishing for a jacket but also relishing feeling cold.  Feeling cold is . . . well, it’s feeling something.  Better than nothing, right?  She sighs, feeling a familiar waive of sadness sweep over her.  Alone time should be helpful, but when she is alone, there is nothing to interrupt her thoughts…questions…longing…

Ow – her toe jammed something hard.  She squints in the dim light and sees an old signpost.  Probably either very old – gold rush days – or from the old tourist trap mining tours set up near by.  No matter to her, so long as she is alone.  In no mood for company today.

Trudging on, the gorge widens and she sees the fork up ahead.  Relief.  The walls were becoming oppressive.  She is much more of a view person – open spaces.  Why the gorge called to her today, she doesn’t know.  But being enveloped by the steep barren walls did seem to bring some comfort for a time.

Up ahead, to the right, the gorge banks steeply down.  She sees the smooth sandy sides and smiles, knowing that what looks like danger levels out to the hidden beach on Red creek.  Farther past the beach is the path to town. Her steps slow, her hand combing through her hair, other arm hugging her body.  Seeming to hold herself together and give strength.

Sighing…she turns left, up a gentle slop - the easy road.  One more turn and their house beckons, comforting lights, laughter coming from inside.  Taking a deep breath, she straightens up, puts on a smile and opens the door.


  1. Hey! Great start! Are you jumping in?

    1. Maybe - we'll see. I was inspired by the "assignment:" This week’s prompt for the Friday Fiction:

      "Stuck in a rut

      March is greeen, but winter still comprises 2/3 of the month. Spring is not until the tail end. So this prompt ensures our character is stuck in a (metaphorical or literal, you decide) muddy rut: frozen in a place that despite all his/her inner urgings, s/he can’t move forward or look backward.

      Why? Describe the inertia using dialog, imagery, whatever it takes."