photo by Sam Carter via Unsplash
Doug climbs onto the stile, sits on the limestone step. Beneath him the rock is as cold as the ice capping the water butts in the farmyard, as if it’s grown brittle in the frost and might shatter under his weight.
He gazes out over the flock, at the wind tugged fleeces, at the snow gathering along the wall line. Time to go. Still he waits, lets the flakes build in the crooks of his arms.
He could sit, let the drifts pile over him, let the walkers find him – wind dried and stringy – in the thaw … A warm, wet nose nuzzles into his palm – his collie, Flash, needing food. Needing him. Doug stands, beats the snow from his coat and heads home.
Written for Three Line Tales. See here to join in.
This reminded me of growing up on the edge of the Peak District National Park. Lots of hills. Lots of limestone. Lots of sheep.
Word Shamble 
Beautiful description of the feel and appearance of the Peak District in winter. Your writing subtly nudges us to feel the parallels between Doug’s internal, emotional world, and the landscape. And then, the common feature of landscape and emotions, his collie Flash, saves him. Lovely writing, Lynn – and I’m really glad your MC survived the story!
Where did you grow up? I spent formative years in Macclesfield which gave easy access to the Pennines.
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Thank you Penny. It’s a lovely, hard place and I can’t imagine how much harder it was and is when you have to spend your days out in some of the harsh winters there.
I lived in Buxton for most of my childhood and my Mum still lives there, so just over the hill from Macc. We caught a train to Macclesfield the other Christmas and my step dad came to fetch us and take us back to Mum’s. He’d had to dig the four by four out of a snowdrift that morning and the drive back over the Cat and Fiddle road was … interesting. It seems you, like me, know a few different corners of the country 🙂
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This is a well-observed quiet moment, snow has a wonderful clarifying quality, there’s a very subtle sadness there too. When it snowed recently, something made me think of Dorothy, drowsy in a poppy field being saved by it. Glad Doug was saved by Flash.
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Thank you Pola. Snow changes the atmosphere as well as the look of a place, doesn’t it? Sound and movement muffled. Thanks for reading and for your thoughtful comment
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Some people’s lives hang on a word out of place or a silent gesture at the right time. Good story.
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Thanks Jane
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There was so much calm and stillness in this story Lynn.
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Thanks so much
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I like this type of stuff
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Thank you Ankush, I’m very glad you like my writing. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read and comment
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It’s my pleasure .
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