I sent this story into a contest a couple of months ago. It had to be 150 words or less, and involve tracks of some sort. One of Us wasn’t accepted, but I thought it’d be fun to share it here.
Of course, with the recent election and subsequent turmoil, I really mulled over whether or not to post it at all. Anything remotely divisive and many of us are a little jumpy, right? The last thing I want is to add negatively to that discussion. Literature that presents numerous interpretations fascinates me. I can think of various other familiar parallels to this little tale that don’t involve election politics; perhaps that’s what inspired One of Us to begin with. Whatever else you see in these words, let creativity rather than divisiveness be multifaceted.
One of Us
“Come gather round!”
The soft grass padded the sound of many feet scampering to the fallen logs. The breeze tossed the birch branches above; toadstools gathered in clumps at their trunks, onlookers to the festivities. Rabbits loped, jumped to their places and ate sweet spring clover, still wet with dew.
“Winter is over!”
“Don’t be greedy, share your lot!”
Games sprung up between kits, tag and leap frog, while adults scratched languid ears. All were dappled beneath the shadows of the early trees. Laughter and chatter, sighs of contentment.
The breeze turned cold. The toadstools sank, suddenly shriveled. The fresh air betrayed an odor, different and sharp. A cry rose up from the playing little ones; adults stirred from repose to behold a sight at the edge of their picnic. Noses twitched; eyes bulged.
The tracks of a fox, fresh, new, were seen in their clearing.
Thoughts? Who else is having similar second glances at your writing/writing discourses seen around you?