18 | Linguist | Anxious resting face
Any feedback welcome :)
Written By: Helen Grant
April 10, 2015
I had begun to wonder whether the mud clinging to my boots had been mixed with some strong glue, because it was becoming more and more difficult to put one foot in front of the other. Or perhaps I had accidentally excavated a rabbit grave, and was carrying the two of us back to the house.
Mum and Dad seemed to be getting further and further ahead, and they looked sort of bendy, wobbly, like when you stare across campfire and it looks like burning water.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about the sofa in the living room. I imagined myself sinking into it, and then keeping going, heavy enough to hollow out the floor of the house and mine the ground, a small blond lift descending into a mountain.
My left leg buckled under me. I knelt in the earth, as if in prayer.