This week the online writing group, Trifecta has asked us to describe summer in exactly 33 words. Here’s my contribution:
The only breeze is the rug’s undulation as I lay it over the roof’s baking surface. Kit unpacks the picnic while I lean back, watching a lazy aeroplane trail divide a perfect sky.
To read other people’s or to join in click here.
I only met him once when I was a child, at Nan’s house. She had sent us out from under her feet, with homemade lemonade lollies. We squeezed through the railings into the overgrown garden of the big house.
“Do you want to see a skeleton?” he asked. I could only nod because my tongue had become stuck to the ice.
He showed me two tombs, side by side, yellow-blotched and broken. When I refused to look inside, he left me crying in the summer nettles and cow parsley.
I was 25 when I next met Thomas, my brother.
This piece of writing is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group. Each week writers from around the world attempt to write 100 words (or so) starting with a picture. This week my word count is 99.
I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture from Sarah Ann Hall or to join in with the group hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields.