Mired #amwriting

Thanks to Rochelle, as always, for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Mired

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.

 

end 10/25/2017

Sascha Darlington

To read more stories for the photo prompt, click here –> 

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39 thoughts on “Mired #amwriting

    • Thanks, Sandra. No, you’re not being dense. It’s possible it’s an idiom we have in the US, a last nail in the coffin. I was trying to tie it all together, dreams, being stuck, death–metaphorical and real. The last nail on a repair that means they’re staying.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I’m a little puzzled about the last line. Was the nail being hammered into a new home or something else. A coffin as you’ve indicated in the comment above, Sascha?

    Oh, and I belong to a private Facebook group for indigenous peoples, and the term “fry bread” comes up quite often.” 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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