Darnell clicked his worn CB receiver. “Gets flatter by the year, eh, Herb?” The canyon had finally risen to meet the rusted bridge.
“Shit, man,” said Herb’s gravelly voice. “Y’know, Otto used to watch birds down there, fighting over fish and shit?”
“Ma-an.” Darnell looked outside. “Drier than a graphite drawin’ down there now though.”
“Man, listen to you! Poeticizing this hellhole.”
Darnell chuckled, glancing again at the bleached rocks. As he re-entered the highway, he wondered if the canyon would start rising past the iron arch, whether in another twenty years it would grow into a sky-carving mountain.
Photographer: Thomas Hawk
* * *
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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Walking (Part 7)
When I got home, I changed out of my work clothes into jeans and a t-shirt, fed the cat, and set off for a walk by the river. The leaves were beginning to turn, and the dogwoods and Bradford pear trees looked like upside down ladies wearing red dresses in the sky. When I turned off of the road onto the path, the shade made it feel cooler, and the little patches of light coming down between the leaves of the trees were right pretty.
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I love the western vibe of this piece. The dialogue is very well-done and realistic!
Oooo, I really wish I would be able to witness that scenery! Loved your story!