The leaves crunched, brittle now, but the friends remembered the green vitality that yawned in soggy spring then grew strong through summer heat. The bold green buzzed with sunshine, sweet and sappy, but the shortening days kept change coming. The life-filled green pigment faded, replaced by a final blowout vibrant fire dance of red, orange, yellow. In the end, pale brown replaced all others while the leaves prepared to sleep forever, or at least until their nutrients gave life to another. The tree slept for a season, and the friends wondered if they themselves were the leaves of the world.
The trail was used mainly by tourists these past many years, if at all. Soft jungle sounds ruffled my ears. A mystery whispered somewhere down an even smaller offshoot path, over a hill, into the past. Ancient memories wandered around me, doing everyday things to survive in a bountiful, yet harsh environment, where a sting or a slip in the wrong spot meant disaster. I walked up to a circular stone. A thick layer of moss covered the ghost of sacrificial blood from hundreds of years before. Who was here, I asked. A snuffle behind me answered, we’re here now.
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StretchesThe brain needs to stretch before working out just as much as the body. Welcome to my stretch zone of stories in 100 words, and perhaps other bits. Archives
September 2019
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