Mid-August, by Jim Woessner
The boy circled the house splatting black flies while open-mouthed lizards waited below hoping for a reward. The dog chased Angus calves over the brittle dry grass. And inside, the sisters danced butt naked to country music on the radio. It was the day their mother walked downriver and disappeared in a patch of woods. “I can’t take no more,” she’d said. But no one listened. No one believed in her leaving. No one paid any attention. The kids continued playing their games, and father went fishing without saying a word. It was mid-August, it took forever to get dark.
31/7/2020 07:58:04 am
Did she come back I wonder. Summertime and the living ain't easy...
1/8/2020 01:53:06 am
Thanks so much. As far as "did she come back?", that's one of the things about writing that I love. We get to make up our own endings, and thereby become a participant in the story. Much like Picasso or Cezanne leaving raw canvas portions of their paintings.
31/7/2020 09:41:10 am
Life goes on. All are expendable.
1/8/2020 01:53:32 am
Interesting perspective. Thanks for that.
31/7/2020 11:10:02 am
Well done Jim. So much in so few words.
1/8/2020 01:53:57 am
Thank you, Mary. Kind words.
31/7/2020 07:34:37 pm
Nearly every sentence leaves me with a visual image. Each time I read I can see a different story.
1/8/2020 01:54:21 am
Thanks. Much appreciated.
2/8/2020 11:26:36 pm
You darn near put an entire novel into 100 words, Jim. Great job!
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