Site of the writer Andrew Wood

Archive for November, 2012

Flash Fiction #13 – Out Of The Woodwork

Hello everyone,

This is my first post since early/mid October! I’m sorry for being off the grid a lot lately but life’s little trials go on *roll of the eyes*

I thought I would kick off with a small flash fiction entitled ‘Out Of The Woodwork’ so here goes :-)

 

Flash Fiction #13 – Out Of The Woodwork

A thin sliver of light pierced the murky window like a freshly loosed arrow, casting dancing beams across his legs as he slept on the straw mattress. With a reluctant groan he unstuck his eyes and wiped them clear of the gunk. His head was pounding from the shallow sleep, his back trembling like an earthquake from the engulfing bruise enveloping it. Something was different in the air – a sense of clarity sprinkled itself across his mind.

The frozen touch of winter’s air drifted through the barn, kicking up loose bits of straw and carrying them off into the unknown. The only thing he knew as he scratched his stubble was that he had a hard day’s trek in front of him. He was desperate to find some kind of civilisation amidst the snowy wasteland. He had been fortunate to find the barn he was now resting in. His weather beaten face loomed as he stood weakly, the glint of first light reflecting off his crimson hair, setting it alight with innocent warmth. His hazel eyes screwed up as the throbbing in his temples grew.

He brushed off the few pieces of straw from his woollen traveller’s coat – an item made from some of the best and warmest the sheep had to offer. He wrapped his gloved hands around his chest and tried to gain some heat. He glanced around the barn with a dreary look, taking note of the old, dried-up blood stains on the wooden floor, the rickety old worker’s bench and tool littered with rusted equipment ranging from saws to hammers to planes. None of it was any use to him.

He picked up hisĀ HessianĀ rucksack, shaking, and slung it over his shoulder. His boots were wearing thin and the fleece insoles were worn and bare now, giving him almost no protection from the sub-zero temperatures outside. A prayer went out as he stroked his necklace – a charm from the old religion and a memory of his late wife. He longed to cry but he knew that it would not alleviate his pain… or guilt.

His cracked open the door to the old wooden structure and peeked outside hesitantly. A soft blanket of snow was beginning to fall from the greyed skies, pushing his sunken heart even further down to his gut. He breathed in a painfully cold amount of air and ventured forth to the west. Frosty winds bit his body all over like a thousand hungry rats. He closed his eyes and remembered the roaring fire from home, the soothing embrace of his loved one… and the playful giggling of his new-born daughter.

It was then that a tear rolled down his face and promptly froze.

**********

I would love some feedback if anyone would like to give me any :-) Hope you enjoyed it!

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