It’s time for Friday Fictioneers. I’m the late night crew. Ha! Well, I made it.
Thanks to Madison Woods for the prompt and a special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who is celebrating her fourth-year anniversary hosting the Friday Fictioneers. A big, heartfelt thank you to her! We are so lucky to have her leadership.
My 100-word story follows. This is part of something I’ve been working on, an excerpt I suppose, revamped for this prompt. It’s a fantasy, although this might not appear to be…
Waves crashed among faint drumming of the markets and playful dwellers’ banter. It was the pulse of the island and it flowed through Varella like blood. From her self-burial in the sand, Varella sprang to her feet and stumbled onto the path, not knowing where it lead.
Away. That was the only destination that mattered if there was such a place.
Trees shrunk around her to a miniaturized version of themselves, as if squashed from above. Only Varella remained a full measure of herself, slamming into bushes swarming with thickets biting at her ankles, pinning her to the soft sand.
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