He lay, entombed in mud and ice and darkness. He’d lain there so long that fine, tough filaments had grown over his limbs, the bridge of his nose, twining around the desiccated, corded column of his neck. He’d pull the blanket higher, cover the chilled vee of his pajama top…but no…too much of an effort. He’d gone too far away.
Then he heard it, the sweet lilt: the child’s voice. A faraway light broke overhead; he felt her smooth cheek against his own, unshaven and unwashed. Her lashes brushed his cheekbone, once and again.
Wake up, Grampa.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (01/07/2021): In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the contrasting prompts butterfly and stone. It doesn’t have to be a western ranch chore; it can be any routine task. Go where the prompt leads!