Jule tore into the cold. The harsh wind nipped at her heels as she swept quickly, lightly into the deep forest surrounding her. The shadowed moon above lapped at her small footprints in the brittle, frozen snow as naked limbs snagged at her loosely hanging dress.
She was running. Running into the vast known. What laid beyond these trees wasn't a figurative fresh crop of new beginnings; no, what laid behind this soulless forest was a consecutive sequence of inconsequential -literal- crops. And down those dusty roads lining the hapless fields of cheap corn and soy beans, she knew she would only find a town that had vacuumed the innocuous hopes and dreams of all that came before her.
Thoughts callously turned in the girl's mind. The possibility of escaping this vortex of hopeless resignation to a life with which she felt she could do so much more gave her thoughts a veracity personified in the speed of her run.
Jule's dreams do not belong to this particular story though. The possession of this story is the town itself - all it held within and with all it kept outside.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Original stories and poignant thought from a
former West Coast girl living in a Midwestern
world with a New England heart.
Posts
2 comments:
Wow, very impressive! When do we get more?
Awe thank you! It'll come in waves... little by little :)
Post a Comment