Bethany Rose
Stories (1/0)
I Know the End
She had given this moment a lot of thought. She knelt upon the dry grass and imagined the bird song that she used to hear in this field. Her hands traipsed through the bristle before her, dust specks rising from the ground and twinkling against the low, brooding sun. Sunset. This used to be her favourite time of the day. After school, post-homework and dinner, sitting on the porch with an iced tea so dense with brown sugar that the granules sat heavy at the bottom of the glass. Her father, looking how she still imagines him now, over by the gate, checking on the horses before closing the stable for the evening. If she squints her eyes until everything goes out of focus, she can almost pretend she is back there. Before all of this happened. The sun is still glowing deep orange; everything looks as though it was shot through the old camera her grandmother once gave to her for Christmas. She coveted that camera as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Selling it had not made much of a difference in retrospect; what’s one more day of food rations when there’s a month of no rations ahead?
By Bethany Rose3 years ago in Fiction