Dancing fingers

Kahasai

United States

I'm 17
I like to dream

Homeschooled
Maybe a fool

Trampolinist
and classical guitarist

Archer
Let us barter

Mountain girl
I like burl

River otter
Viking daughter

Wolfdog owner
Forest roamer

I'm no fighter
But I am a writer

Message to Readers

I considered writing a happy story. I always consider writing a happy story. It never works out to be happy.

I love feedback, negative and positive. No, seriously, I do. Please, point out what you see, be it good or bad or both. I would love to hear your opinion.

Skeleton Remains #fire

December 30, 2018

FREE WRITING

4
    The town was silent except for the small huffs of breath of a man digging in the black earth. All around him, charred buildings smoked and used each other for support. Metal remains glinted in the faded light; anything wooden was burnt to a crisp.
    Ash drifted into the man's bearded face as he dug into the warm earth with trembling, bleeding fingers. Smoke still curled from the rough ground. Occasionally, a coal burned his hand, making him curse. But he didn't stop. He only dug, keeping his gaze fixed on the job.
    His movements slowed, and he sat back on his heels. He gazed at the sky. The sky was gray from smoke, far above the town. The town once had a name. No longer.
    Joints creaking, dust falling from his clothes, he stood and stepped back from the hole he'd made. The hole was about three feet long by three feet deep. It rested at the base of a tilted, charred post that had once known the name of the town.
    He turned and picked up a small, blanket-wrapped bundle. The blankets were stained and dirty; he held it like it was made of gold. Ash drifted from him as he gently placed the bundle into the hole. His eyes closed. Tears trickled from his squeezed eyelids and left a clean track across his dirty face.
    The blankets rested against the edges of the hole, hiding the bundle in a protective cocoon.
    He didn't move for a long time. The sun crossed the sky as he knelt in front of the bundle, eyes closed, chest heaving. He sobbed, and no one heard.
    When the red sun lowered on the horizon, he pushed warm dirt back onto the small bundle, hiding it from sight.
    Just before the hole was completely filled, he stopped and reached into a pouch at his belt. From there, he pulled out a few seeds. With care, he placed them on the burnt dirt, and finished burying the bundle.
    Then he stood and left the skeleton town. He never looked back.

 
This is for PureHeart's contest, which you can find here or under the name Contest Time! #Fire

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