| General Flash Fiction posted October 12, 2018 |
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Summer flash fiction entry
Summer Dreaming
by RodG
Summer Flash Fiction Contest Winner
I really grew a lot that summer spent with Gramps on the farm. By August I'd grown two inches and outta near all my clothes. I was also nigh onto thirteen and had these weird urges I'd never felt before.
Like whenever I visited with Sadie Ann Pruitt over the split-rail fence that separated our farms. She'd smile under that bonnet of hers and I'd get all red-faced and squirmy.
That girl could talk, but I could only listen. Then I'd run wild through Gramps' fields and dream about her all night.
My last afternoon on the farm, Gramps spent dreaming on a hillside after we'd caught six fish in the pond. I roamed, looking for daisies. I searched until I found a perfect one with a bright golden face like Sadie's.
Sitting by Gramps and my beagle Rufus, I happily plucked the daisy's petals until-- "She loves me . . . not."
I really grew a lot that summer spent with Gramps on the farm. By August I'd grown two inches and outta near all my clothes. I was also nigh onto thirteen and had these weird urges I'd never felt before.
Like whenever I visited with Sadie Ann Pruitt over the split-rail fence that separated our farms. She'd smile under that bonnet of hers and I'd get all red-faced and squirmy.
That girl could talk, but I could only listen. Then I'd run wild through Gramps' fields and dream about her all night.
My last afternoon on the farm, Gramps spent dreaming on a hillside after we'd caught six fish in the pond. I roamed, looking for daisies. I searched until I found a perfect one with a bright golden face like Sadie's.
Sitting by Gramps and my beagle Rufus, I happily plucked the daisy's petals until-- "She loves me . . . not."
Like whenever I visited with Sadie Ann Pruitt over the split-rail fence that separated our farms. She'd smile under that bonnet of hers and I'd get all red-faced and squirmy.
That girl could talk, but I could only listen. Then I'd run wild through Gramps' fields and dream about her all night.
My last afternoon on the farm, Gramps spent dreaming on a hillside after we'd caught six fish in the pond. I roamed, looking for daisies. I searched until I found a perfect one with a bright golden face like Sadie's.
Sitting by Gramps and my beagle Rufus, I happily plucked the daisy's petals until-- "She loves me . . . not."
Summer Flash Fiction Contest Winner |
Artwork is by Norman Rockwell�??�?�¢??Summer with Grandpa 1948.
Used courtesy of Google images.
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