For the first time in months I worked a bit on the fiction I am writing. Here is a small piece. I am not a writer so I know it will definitely need an editor but I hope the story at least captures your interest.
The leaves were scattered around her bare feet. Her toenails painted the color of her favorite sunset. Fall sunsets were always catching the whole sky on fire.
“Sunsets are lovely” she whispers quietly “just lovely”.
The wind kicked the leaves up and she watched as they swirled lazily in half circles before landing again.
She watched them knowing it was safer than looking up. She didn’t want to know where she was or where she had been. Nothing good ever came from her looking up. Discovery usually lead to pain. She began to walk shaking her head, “Not lovely”.
The streets were quiet because it was a Sunday and everyone in this town would be in church. All 40 people would either be singing their mornings away with their hands in the air or hungover in bed with covers over their head. And yes those at church would talk about the drowning souls that didn’t make it to praise his name.
“Forgive them father for they know not…”
“None of them are lovely”
She didn’t like living in this town. It crawled with evil and she hated that she had been directed here. They had one church they named THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING SAINTS. She called it CHURCH OF THE WALKING DEAD. None of them welcomed her when she got to town. Not one of them made her feel loved when she walked through their church doors for the first time. No… they were not lovely.
She was nearing the town’s only crossroad. Every Sunday she hoped she would get news that she could leave. She finally looked up for the first time and searched the street. Today was not that day. The street stood empty.
She could hear the congregation singing PRAISE BE THE SAINTS, their final song. For the first time since the leaves at her feet came into focus she wondered what they had done to her the night before.