memory lane

I hear cracking and crashing under my feet but can’t look down long enough to find out on what I’m stepping. I have to keep my eyes ahead to see where I’m going. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and trickle down on my cheek and neck.
I keep pushing my way through the thick damp foliage that absorbs the cry and dodging through the humid air that sucks every breath any living thing takes.

I know it’s around here somewhere.

There is no trail in the front or to the sides, and the jungle takes over and covers the path I just hacked. There is no way back, and I am starting to worry and wonder if it’s worth it.

I finally see a patch of shrub slightly sparse and stop. The sun casts a ray of light onto a rusty, dilapidated object.

Ah, there it is. That’s where I left my heart.


The photo prompt is provided by Tim Livingston with the blog, The ForesterArtist


For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – week of March 14th, 2017


19 thoughts on “memory lane

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