100-Word Fiction: ‘For Years / Four Years’

On reflection it was perhaps youth and its restlessness that always took people away… corners turned, bridges crossed…

The real challenges come surreptitiously… almost… and seem little more than normalities. Is this the sign that caprice is being buried under the rubble of real change?

On Monday morning he wakes early and drinks coffee, trains, showers, gets dressed, breakfasts. Meetings are continuous: phone calls at the treadmill; documents and bacon.

Does it feel like years? It’s been four. He should have counted the hotels, delegations, the slices of toast. Somewhere it’s on record.

When it finally ends the exhumation begins.

100-Word Fiction: New Term

Outside the school leaves were on the ground, all green and orange and yellow. A group of adults were talking on the corner by the bench that you could jump from. They had deep, grown-up voices and were saying things about stuff – countries in the world and money and things. Oh, the world is a mess, one said, the world is a mess. He ran off away from them all across the grass to the trees. They didn’t chase him or anything. He put his satchel down on the ground. The park was so big and like an adventure.