I saw this photo prompt on Lynn Love’s blog and a story immediately sprang to mind. If you too feel inspired, here’s the link to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt.
The photo is courtesy of Tim Livingston (the Forester Artist)
A long time it’s been here, nights and nights and more nights. Still the smell hangs in the air like death. Mice come here now and birds. Mice and birds don’t know much, don’t smell death. Not like us. Us knows.
Men comed here over and over in the thing, comed stomping with death in their hands. Us would run and hide. Birds didn’t. Birds is stupid, don’t know to hide. Us sawed what happened to birds. Then one time, earth opened and breathed, enough. Us heard. Men didn’t. Earth opened and men’s thing tumbled inside. They left it there, caught in earth’s jaws. Us waited and waited nights and nights and more nights. But the thing was dead.
Mice come here now and birds. Mice and birds don’t remember anything. Us remembers. Us stays away. Except when us is hungry and us remembers scampering stupid mice. Quick snap snap snap. Blood and tiny squeals. Then us runs away back to the safe earth.
A long time it’s been here. Still it smells of death.