Featured Review on this writing by Jeff Bezaire

All In The Golden Afternoon

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More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: House Of Ten Thousand Exotic Rooms
Written for a title prompt at the House of Ten Thousand Exotic Rooms. https://www.booksie.com/house-house-of-ten-thousand-exotic-rooms-1620
cover pic: ovidiu-gruescu-1434804-unsplash

Submitted: March 14, 2019

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Submitted: March 14, 2019

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All In The Golden Afternoon.

There are tasks to be done, demands to be met, but a walk in the park gives a golden moment that is too precious to pass on. It’s actually warm and I’m engulfed by a desire to just stay a while, soak up the heat that’s like liquid gold.

The grass is dry. It’s not hard to find a position where I’ll not be noticed but will still get to bask in the warmth of the sun. So many days of late have been so cold; perhaps a chance is here now to melt the ice surrounding my bones.

I lay back and I look at the gold. The bees are buzzing and suddenly I’m going along with them from flower to flower, bloom to bloom, for they, too, are enjoying the sudden warmth.

With a flitter and flutter my direction has changed as the butterfly pulls me around with her wings. Languidly now, we float with almost no effort. I could stay for a while with this butterfly, she’d guide me to places as yet unseen, but something else has now caught my eye.

Deftness to perfection. There’s no other way to describe the way her legs co-ordinate with each other like a giant loom. She looks at me, nods I am sure. A lesson in arachnaweaving soon has me spinning this gossamer thread bedecked with diamond dewdrops. It is awe-inspiring to think that I could have made something of such delicate beauty.

The chirping of birds breaks in to my peace and I’m wondering what it would be like to have feathered wings. I could swoop and dive, fly high, fly low. Over tree-tops and roof-tops, down in to bushes to pluck up some berries, then up and away and I’m over the sea, salt-spray diving with torpedo speed.

Feathers exchanged for flippers, for fins, and an underwater exploration begins. The wrecks of ships sunken deep in to the sea bed, a possibility of a pirate treasure chest. What riches, what wealth, but totally useless to a fish such as I have become. A cave ringed with coral, a mermaid palace? Before I get a chance to investigate, I’m caught in an eddy, a water spout that lifts me up and up to the surface.

And now I’m a dog, swimming for shore. Doggy splash, paddle dash, and I’m running with the waves until the sand is beneath my feet and...then...I...shake!

Drips of water spatter down upon my face. The golden sun has turned to rain and woken me from a most peculiar dream. I jump to my feet, regret my haste for my balance has not yet fully woken. I’ll shelter beneath the leaves of the trees, let the rain die down a bit.

I must have slept for ages beneath the sky with all these nature noises drifting by. Those tasks have not been done and the demands have not been met, but there’s still time for the day’s not finished yet.


© Copyright 2020 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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