To Remember Massacre (100)


This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

Between Bear River and Beaver Creek, in the shifting light of dawn, a Red-winged Blackbird calls, seeing the morning, and plays the same whistle for the sun that it does every day.

A Blackbird knows time. It notices the color of the leaves, thick against a branch. It does not remember heavy snow or the color of blood.

This is not redemption or forgiveness. For war, for murder, we get neither; at least not right away. This is only the sweep of time over a place; the realization of a natural world that is absent in judgment, slow in retribution.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.


4 responses »

    • Thanks, mouse! I didn’t manage to post my link to the original site, unfortunately, so I failed to be as much part of the community this week. But I enjoyed writing it anyway and I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it 🙂

  1. Hi Lime,
    I missed last week so just managed to read this, the only Friday Fiction I’ve read from last week. It is sublime. It goes from the tiniest to the universal in its scope; magnificent. And articulates something I think, and think about, so I like it that much more.

    • Wow! Thank you, Carlos. I didn’t even manage to link it up last week — you may notice a dearth of commentary, but I was retreating and without internet access.

      So that’s that. But I’m so glad it struck a chord with you.

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