Double-Stacked Bookshelves

A ndy scuffed his foot over the hard packed, dusty dirt road, staring at the cracks in the surface, and hitched his pack into a more comfortable position.  His shoulders had been rubbed raw long ago and thick callouses had formed where the straps of his pack had chafed for the past three months.  He'd started out walking for no other reason than to walk, but his pilgrimage seemed to morph into something more.  Something deeper.  He felt grimy.  Dust was etched into the creases and folds of his clothing.  He hadn't seen a proper shower in weeks; instead, rivers, lakes, and streams had become Andy's bathing vessels.  Never able to fully cleanse himself, Andy had taken to side roads and copses to avoid the looks often caste his way when he encountered anyone.  These detours often left him without human interaction for long stretches of time.  The road leading to the small, faded church stretched out in front of him,...

"Racing the Shore" I ruffled the fur of his neck as we gazed across the river.   Charlie, my aging protector.   Always the first to greet me at the door and the last to take his eyes off me whenever I left the room.   He had been my constant companion for ten years and it was hard to believe that we were sitting here again; the very spot where our bond was forged years ago.   I silently thanked my father for the gift of Charlie and unhooked his leash. “What do you say, boy?   One more adventure?” And we raced along the shore. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This post is part of Charli Mills' Flash Fiction Challenge hosted by Carrot Ranch Communications .  June 10, 2015 prompt : In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about an animal rescue. It can be a typical dog or cat rescue from the pound, or helping a critter less fortunate. Go where the prompt leads you. The rules can b...

"Petals in Pages" In the end, there wasn’t much to remember her by.   Her scent had vanished.   Her possessions had been dispersed to the children.   Everything that identified her as a tangible person was gone.   Never before had Walter felt so alone in the house they built into a home.   Purging everything had been his idea; it was easier to look around the empty rooms without the constant reminders.   All Walter had left were his memories and the lone, once pink rose Janet had pressed into his favorite book years ago.   He carefully clutched the stem and wept silently into the darkness. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------     This post is part of Charli Mill's Flash Fiction Challenge hosted by Carrot Ranch Communications .    June 3, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a rose. It can be straight-forward, romantic, f...