I chose Hurricane Juan, but any disaster will do!
Below is the beginning of a short story I was rewriting yesterday. See where you go with it . . .
Below is the beginning of a short story I was rewriting yesterday. See where you go with it . . .
On the night Hurricane Juan slammed Nova Scotia, I sat next to the window watching a tree shielded with tiny clinging birds. The wind screamed.
Fat with leaves, the tree strained until one whole branch began cracking. The birds flew in all directions. The cracking grew louder and another branch severed from the tree. As the scene was repeated I couldn’t take my eyes off the destruction.
At dawn only the tree trunk was left. Shadows disguised by camouflage arrived later to chop the rest of the trunk. In the end, a gaping hole in the ground disappeared, the earth filling itself up. It was as if the tree had never been there.
One morning not that after that last tree was chopped I . . .
Have a great week everyone,
TartanFrog
Fat with leaves, the tree strained until one whole branch began cracking. The birds flew in all directions. The cracking grew louder and another branch severed from the tree. As the scene was repeated I couldn’t take my eyes off the destruction.
At dawn only the tree trunk was left. Shadows disguised by camouflage arrived later to chop the rest of the trunk. In the end, a gaping hole in the ground disappeared, the earth filling itself up. It was as if the tree had never been there.
One morning not that after that last tree was chopped I . . .
Have a great week everyone,
TartanFrog
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