We were Eight and Ten
Sun like an angry pharaoh. Wind like a vengeful woman. Summer-long grasses, burs, bites, and bloody knees. Holey, holy rocks!
“Girls, watch for snakes!”
Barefoot with soles tough as aborigines. Fairytale hair, streaming gold. Shimmering sweat. Skin brown as walnuts. Fleet, sleek, and sinewy as cougars and just as wild.
Ecstatic sunsets. Chasing toads in the porchlight. Mom makes us bathe, slippery polliwogs in a yellow tub. Mermaid songs echo over the waves. Dad yells through the door, water splashed on the floor.
Tucked dreaming into down, really heathens, imps, and fays.
The Meta Story: I have summer photos somewhere, but this one was already on my computer and is about the correct timeframe for my story. All true, by the way.
I’m the girl in blue. My sister is in red.
Both my parents, Benariene J. and David E. Sparlin, have left us. I miss them every day.
Friday Fictioneers: 100-word stories