The lamps along the avenue cast a pale glow upon the snowy blanket. Once every so often a horse-drawn carriage made its way slowly along the street, the great animal in front--brown, black, white, or gray--occasionally tossing its head with a soft snort, hooves clopping against wet asphalt. The young woman walked along on her own two feet; the carriages, with their silently embracing couples, were a reminder of the season, yet she preferred to take her own path. The wintertime made this place seem like a dream--she walked through neither city nor country, but somewhere in between, somewhere that existed only at this time of the year. She couldn't explain it, nor did she wish to; to explain it would take away its magic. With a small sigh--not of sadness, but with a smile at seeing yet another carriage, its dappled horse prancing and nodding hello, pass by--she brushed a stray coil of scarlet hair back from her forehead, tucking it beneath her hat. Her nose was cold from the breath of the dream.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Dreamland
AUTHOR'S NOTE: An attempt at short fiction using the prompts "glow, dream, season, place, coil, hat." Written in or prior to 2002.
DREAMLAND
The lamps along the avenue cast a pale glow upon the snowy blanket. Once every so often a horse-drawn carriage made its way slowly along the street, the great animal in front--brown, black, white, or gray--occasionally tossing its head with a soft snort, hooves clopping against wet asphalt. The young woman walked along on her own two feet; the carriages, with their silently embracing couples, were a reminder of the season, yet she preferred to take her own path. The wintertime made this place seem like a dream--she walked through neither city nor country, but somewhere in between, somewhere that existed only at this time of the year. She couldn't explain it, nor did she wish to; to explain it would take away its magic. With a small sigh--not of sadness, but with a smile at seeing yet another carriage, its dappled horse prancing and nodding hello, pass by--she brushed a stray coil of scarlet hair back from her forehead, tucking it beneath her hat. Her nose was cold from the breath of the dream.
The lamps along the avenue cast a pale glow upon the snowy blanket. Once every so often a horse-drawn carriage made its way slowly along the street, the great animal in front--brown, black, white, or gray--occasionally tossing its head with a soft snort, hooves clopping against wet asphalt. The young woman walked along on her own two feet; the carriages, with their silently embracing couples, were a reminder of the season, yet she preferred to take her own path. The wintertime made this place seem like a dream--she walked through neither city nor country, but somewhere in between, somewhere that existed only at this time of the year. She couldn't explain it, nor did she wish to; to explain it would take away its magic. With a small sigh--not of sadness, but with a smile at seeing yet another carriage, its dappled horse prancing and nodding hello, pass by--she brushed a stray coil of scarlet hair back from her forehead, tucking it beneath her hat. Her nose was cold from the breath of the dream.
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