Five Sentence Fiction – Harvest
I used to love the rain, memories of sitting on the front
porch swing with her in my arms, her head on my shoulder as we watched Mother
Nature’s wrath. The smell of
strawberries in her hair, her favorite scent and it quickly became mine; it was
more intoxicating than the smell of the fresh rain. It was with the rain they came, dark metallic
ships cutting through the clouds like lighting, bringing horrors down upon
us. We were foolish to think we were
alone in the universe, so many planets, too much undiscovered. I still smell the strawberries when it rains
even though it has been far too long since I’ve seen her, knowing she may be
out there keeps me going, surviving, fighting, each time they come to harvest.
For more Five Sentence Fiction check out Lillie McFerrin's blog!
So evocative...I can smell strawberries now!
ReplyDeleteI like the counterpoint of the gentle sadness and nostalgia of the beginning against the chill and violence of those last two sentences. Nice job, Stephen!
ReplyDeleteAnd sorry about the "ph" in your name--I know you're Steven!
ReplyDeleteS-t-e-v-e-n :)) You excel at writing of the pain that comes from losing your heart. I always look forward to seeing what twist you've given to love. You've done a great job here again of pulling a pastoral moment into steampunk.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully painful, Steven. I was on the front porch with you...
ReplyDeleteMy take is here: http://www.thejadedlens.com/2012/07/04/just-weeds/