Before She Left by Gay Degani
The clouds’ ominous umbrella darkened emerald hills, wind more dirge than melody. Fields rippled like lake surf, grave and cold. She perched on the edge of the porch, shotgun in hand, watching their rooster peck maggots from its feathers. She’d shoot Henry when he came back, then the fucking bird.
Gay Degani’s stories can be read at Smokelong Quarterly, Night Train, 10 Flash, Emprise Review. She is the editor of EDF’s Flash Fiction Chronicles and blogs when she has time at Words in Place.
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7-1-10 Don't Delay Act Now
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7 comments:
Nice job, Gay - atmospheric and grim!
The bird deserved it. Don't know about the guy though.
With an atmospheric build up like this then the guy must of deserved it (they usually do after all)
Nice one Gay.
LOL! Chicken for dinner!
Why does Henry get it? The bird is more understandable, maybe. The anger expressed in those desires at the end made me want more. Though I like the early mention of dirge early on.
Excellent word choices, Gay. What imagery!
Very beautiful and atmospheric.