so silent it hums.
right before the storm.
that falling, grasping, shhh.
when the mind has slowed.
the breath has caught.
a glacier melting not groaning yet.
not fracturing or breaking.
not sighing or even exhaling.
what lands between two beats.
disappears when the foot falls.
Dear soulful readers,
As a Fictioneer participating in Madison Woods‘s *FridayFlash, I bring you my second 100-word story.
Flash fiction is an exercise for creative writers that allows them to play with words and ideas in a very limited space (sometimes up to 500 words, but generally less). Being concise pushes our creative buttons, shifting us into a higher imaginative gear.
*The FridayFlash (FF) is a gaggle of bloggers writing 100-word pieces in response to a picture posted by Madison Woods in her Thursday blog.
This week’s photo:
This image is brought to you by Inspiration Point, the place for reconsidering.
In the morning woods, I found a man crumpled among the leaves, skin yellowed in pain. I tried to move him, tried to lift him up. He held my eyes, nodded once. His blood was warm on my hands and my sleeves. When he was finally arranged across the saddle, he let out an animal noise, soft but wild. Then he was quiet.
A horse knows its rider, senses confidence and anger and sorrow in a rounded shoulder or slump. And horses know the way home, always ride it fast.
So, my horse and I, we took the man home.