We are nearly there, and my friend turns to me, touching my arm. I smile, and she points out a distant snow-brushed peak. The hills are black ash but already trees sprout bright dresses of life. Snug houses, flame-licked but whole, sit amongst silent forest ghosts. There is one home coming up on our right, burnt with memory, where she will be waiting. Three and a half decades ago, she held me, briefly, before I went to other arms. Now, as we turn down the drive, I see her. She stands under a carport, her face in the light, shining.
This story appeared in Issue Four of SmokeLong Quarterly.
- Bones
- Possessed
- Clouds, the Gills of Fish
- Her Face in the Light
- Left Standing
- Moonlighting
- The Evening of the Dock
- Microsecond
- All the Good People
- The Problem With Logic
- Layover
- The Girl and the Snake
- Indulgence
- Other Times at Sunrise
- The Beauty of Estelle
- Carnivale
- Remembering Elizabeth
- Tiny Bombers
- Green Socks, White Lies
- Certitude
In its third year, The March Micro Marathon will be, as usual, a prompt-a-day whirlwind for 24 days. You’ll exchange drafts of micro fiction, non-fiction, and prose poetry in small groups and gather for a series of online events (all recorded for participants unable to attend live). We’ll finish with 3 competitions, and participants who are not already in SmokeLong Fitness will be invited to workshop with SmokeLong Fitness until the end of April!