Thanks to Rochelle, as always, for hosting Friday Fictioneers.
So many sunsets I’ve experienced here.
Papere said, “Seeing and experiencing, two different things.”
The flood waters have finally receded. Everything usually smells damp, but now the churning waters have uprooted varying scents of mold and rot and death.
Papere said, “We live and die swamp rats.”
But how many times can you start over when even the caskets of your dead have taken to water?
I dream of Taos and pinyon pines, of the scent of fry bread and beans, of snows and fierce wailing winds, of a high desert home. Of calm.
And Remy hammers one final nail.
To read more stories for the photo prompt, click here –>