The last issue of the first volume of East Jasmine Review is out now! I have an article in it called “You have permission to write crap” and I hope you’ll pick up a copy for your e-reader or computer as soon as you can.
She stood quietly at the crossroads as though she was waiting, though if anyone had been watching for any length of time, they wouldn’t have been able to decipher what or whom she was waiting for. No one watched her, though, and no one watched the swaying flowers and grasses like she did. It seemed as though sometimes she could on a whim move the earth underneath the fields as far as the eye could see, though at that moment, she only scanned the far horizon against the darkening blue sky.
Her clothing was simple and light: a grey tunic over brown linen wide-leg pants. She stood sturdy and barefoot among the gravel at the edge of the crossroads just above the ditch that fell away into untamed prairie grass and wildflowers.
Across the field under the horizon line, she could see row upon row of cultivated farm land, stalks of maize and giant sunflowers towering over the fertile earth that had produced them. Her dark hair splayed every which way, apparently defying gravity to create a strange halo around her head. Her dark skin made her bronze in the sun and completely invisible at night.
She took a single step onto the road, and then another. Not hesitant; deliberate. Though she waited for no one and her soul was as wild and untamable as her hair, she kept her eyes steady on the horizon. Lifting her arms in the slight breeze that danced around her ankles, she gave herself to the sky.
The earth rumbled underneath her rough soles.
This post is part of Flash Fiction February.