Day 10 1/2. To celebrate our anniversary, my husband and I are retreating to a cabin in the Puget Sound area. I don’t plan on taking our laptop. I’ll share my writing from the weekend when I return. In the meantime, I thought I might as well write while I’m feeling it.
For those of you who stumble through: I’m writing my way through May. It gives me a chance to warm up some creative energy for the day.
For those of you who have been kind enough to read: flash fiction is growing on me. Thanks for reading. I apologize if I am slow to respond or check out your work. I have a lot of passion projects and passion for my work, so my blogging time is limited.
At last, the traveler stood still. The wind shifted, and a sweetness rose up from the west. Could it be? He walked faster through the forest, stumbled over slick earth, and pushed aside ferns. The forest changed–spruce and firs became moss covered alders, alders became stout pines.
For one year, he pursued the west. Through great sun-cooked plains, broiling river rapids, stark mountain passes, and dark forests, he walked. When he began, he had a companion. The sweet scent made him think of her quiet bed beneath the meadow flowers.
The white noise of the ocean became louder. He made it, at last, to the shore. The endless west touched the sky and shimmered. He would go no farther. From the frontier, he would carve a home.
©2018, Sarah Day. For permissions contact: firstname.lastname@example.org.