I write flash fiction, non-fiction, essays and novels. This month’s Tease is from a short fiction piece in progress.
The wet trail smells like childhood and the sky is painted dark like death. Between the two, hanging from the horizon, burn the changing leaves of Autumn, and his life. Slog, trudge – pause to glimpse the beautiful, the mysterious – then slog, trudge and carry on once more. The trail seemed to be all that mattered, all that existed, aside from his thoughts … and the fire.