CeciliaSweeney

[Prompt was to write a short story set in another country]

        Luke walked along the trail in the woods with his hands in his pockets and his feet dragging as he walked towards the spot he’d always gone when he was upset. The sun would set in an hour, but he’d be back by then.

She’s falling through the water. The last bubbles of breath are leaving her. Something feels familiar about this. Why isn’t she scared? 

[Written for StJ PoemTown 2022]

A leaf has fallen off my Easter cactus,
but all is not lost.
I take it, gently, in my hand, and
set it in a jam jar cup filled with fresh water.

I’m in an old library. Old like the European buildings that have stood since the middle ages or older. The walls aren’t visible through the shelves and shelves of books. Are there walls? Are there doors? Is there an end?