Slice of a Hard Spring
It's late and a thin, wispy fog has settled atop the streets. I don't know when it happened. Last I remembered, the sun was mid-set in a darkening sky. Now every street ended in a gray void. Did the fog creep in, floating like some otherworldly horror, or drop down from above, thicker and lighter than rain? Even this, the palest fog, seemed sinister as it stole building and tree alike from the scenery. Deeper there, headlights became spheres of bright light, that dimmed in the thickening fog. I shuddered as the crisp spring breeze chilled the skin beneath my shoulder blades despite my shirt and sweatshirt. I couldn't stay out here for much longer.
The wind had been dancing with the trees all day, shaking branches thick with leaves. From the greenery sprouting up through winding roots all the way up to the naked tips at the top, it had skipped in flowing movements worthy of any dancer, graceful and perfect.
Now the lights have vanished and the cars with them, leaving me alone with a wind, playful and cruel.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (3 so far!)
Are the trees thick with leaves or naked at the top? Around here they are still naked, not even budding yet. Are there fir trees? Sorry, I like trees. Fog, not so much.
- #3357 Posted 2 years ago
Bushy at the bottom, thinner naked branches at the top. Not fir, they had leaves, although there were fir trees in the distance. I like fog the same way I like fire. I think it is beautiful when it's not scary.
- #3361 Posted 2 years ago
That's more like Fall to me. The wind whips the leaves off the trees from the top first.
- #3370 Posted 2 years ago
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 7 times and rated 0 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?