Saturday, July 21, 2012

The clearing

The undergrowth thins and I stumble into a clearing.  I’m soaked to the skin, wet jeans cold and clammy.  My naked arms, taped together behind my back, itch from their encounters with briars and nettles.  A voice shouts somewhere behind me, answered by another.  I stumble forwards, tripping on a root, landing heavily on my side at the edge of a dark pool.  Half of me wants to just lie here and wait.  The other half knows it would be a fatal mistake.  I struggle to my knees, then up onto my feet and set off back into the woods.


A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words

4 comments:

pattinase (abbott) said...

Wow. This one begs for a longer treatment.

Margot Kinberg said...

Rob - This is excellent!! I would love to see this expanded into something more.

Rob Kitchin said...

Glad you both liked this. I thought it was one of my weaker ones. Some Saturday mornings it clicks, others it doesn't. I might switch it into the third person and work it up to submit to the Shotgun Honey anthnology.

pattinase (abbott) said...

I am a sucker for mood and atmosphere over dialog and this one has real mood.