The train from Florence delivered them just yards from the snail. The tallest girl in the tour group slunk away to capture its porous skin, but instead led the boys to the threshold of a teenage scheme.
French cars zipped by on the highway below them. The girl could see the American glee in the gang’s eyes as they calculated the risk, snail to windshield.
“No, don’t,” she said.
But the mob ruled. They whooped.
#
A single photo she hasn’t looked at since that day. A gentle snail curled on a brave finger, the coming plunge a blurry, gray background.
Photographer: maaddin
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Thank you for reading! This is part of a micro fiction series where I take a photo and write a story inspired by it. Each story is 100 words.
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About the Creator
Mackenzie Davis
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
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Comments (3)
I love the idea of a negative memory being a "single photo she hasn't looked at since that day." Like Dharrhseena stated, I love the wordplay! Unique piece you got here
I like your wordplay in the title. That was brilliant! It's fascinating to know that this was based on actual events!
Is the story based on actual events? If not, why Florence? and French cars?