Among the Pines

The long day brought him at last to a river. Remnants of daylight filtered through the pine boughs. He sat on a fallen log, possessing neither bottle to refill nor pillow to lie upon.

He closed his eyes. The river sang its melody,  peaceful, content. Always before, the music and scent of pine needles freed his heart; now, the great sentinels towered over him like prison bars.

He stood, ignoring weariness, and turned from the river. If his strength lasted, he’d be back by daybreak. She’d be surprised to see him. But nevermore would he find peace among the pines if she could not enjoy it with him.

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4 thoughts on “Among the Pines

  1. Dan Hood

    Well, that took a turn I wasn’t expecting. I like it. I was expecting a nice sort of restful. . .”I’m always at peace when I’m in the pines”. . . type of thing. I like the sense of unfinished business. . .a restlessness that lingers.


    • That’s kind of how it started out, just a peaceful description of a forest… then I decided to change it from a micro-vignette to a micro-story.


  2. There’s always such a sense of a wider story in your work, like we’re just lifting back the curtain and having a peek at a special moment.


    • That’s the intention–though half the time I’m not sure myself what the wider story is. 🙂


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