Caitlin Pheasant
Stories (1/0)
The Outstation
The golden petals draped over her belly as she laboured under the blistering sun, sweat pooling at her swaying back. Mara concentrated on the sand under her bare feet, the breeze that cooled her soaking back. She had moved in circled around this old tree countless times. A few single petals had been trodden into the path where she swayed and groaned, waiting for the midwife to arrive along the dusty track. There were no neighbours close enough to call, and the air felt thick and swollen in the midday heat. A cloud of white birds rose and fell against the sky. Mara paced in her circles, pushing petals into the sand with her feet as they fell. Bruised and golden, they looked strange and foreign against the parched, red soil. She had guided them onto a string the night before, on the cool porch in the lamplight. They'd looked paler then, almost translucent. Grown from seeds she had collected at her parents' farm down south. She'd been surprised they'd lasted out here, even under the covered porch with the automatic drip watering system.
By Caitlin Pheasant3 years ago in Wander