Microfiction Monday: The Sun In Your Eyes

Okay, so it’s not quite a microfiction.

“Mrs. Ingraham’s babying that damn peach tree,” Edna said in a low voice to Kate as they washed the windows in the bookshop. “I don’t know why she bothers.”

Kate didn’t understand it either. The little tree had no business being in northern Wisconsin where the winters raged like some wild grieving animal and the springs were sullen, brimming over with dirty melting snow that turned to gritty mud. Mrs. Ingraham was somewhere Down South. Nobody knew where Mr. Ingraham was. He had gone away down south somewhere, and had come back with his pretty bride.

She watched as the woman carefully pruned the brittle branches that hadn’t made it through the winter, her dove-brown hair shining in the late-afternoon sun. The tree had been there for three years, but hadn’t yet borne fruit. Maybe it never would.

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Microfiction Monday: The Girl With Secrets In Her Hair.

This week’s microfiction is really more of a flash fiction–it clocks in at just under 1000 words. But it needed to be told, because magical realism is the best. Shoutout to Jo, the girl with secrets in her hair.

Every family in Pendergrass had their quirks. Everyone knew, for instance, that the Breckenridge family could see in the dark as clearly as if the sun were shining; it was also common knowledge that the Deans had a way with animals, that their soft sleepy drawls could be understood by the cats, dogs, guinea pigs and parrots of Pendergrass as well as the barks, meows and chirps themselves could.

No one, however, could figure out what was special about the Arrington family…except for their hair.

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