Rain’s weird. It’s so damn neutral. Just nature being nature, not messing up lives or helping them. Just continuing the cycle, spinning nature’s big wheel. And it’s too quiet and contemplative to make a real plot out of.
At least my tired brain says so.
Title: River Flows Through Us
Genre: Fantasy (?)
Word Count: 100
I wish my antlers could grow leaves. I could be more like unto my lord, nature itself. The way each drop falls from one leaf to the next one down to my own head and then to the soil. Rain is nature’s great river, touching everything in its flow on the way down.
My fawns are young but they know this to be true. They hold their heads up skyward, even without their antlers.
We all laugh, content to be part of the flow of the river, while humans run and hide from it all, running from parts of themselves.
There should be a law about making young people go to bed on Friday before 1:00AM. Just doesn’t seem right.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!