No. 35/100 flash fiction stories. Inspired by the piece “For Chris” by Brock Hewitt.

The scene is clear in my mind. 

It’s almost the same as the one before my eyes, but the forest is greener, younger, like I was. The stream was swollen in those days and now I can barely hear it trickle on by. 

Voices carry on the wind, mine and Connor’s, carefree and confident as only the young can be. We splash our feet in the icy water, toes turning red with cold. 

I dip my foot in that same stream, though it’s murkier now than I remember. It’s warmer, too, a comforting sensation. It wraps meep like the memory, holds me tight in a familiar hug. 

I smile, and my mind continues to dwell in days long past. 

. . .

Psst! A reminder for you all: this is the last week to sign up for my beta reader list before I send out my new fantasy short story that I’m entering for a competition! I want your help! All you have to do is read the story and give me your honest thoughts. Find out how to sign up here!

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Photo by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash