He used the floor of the cabin’s open porch as a chair dangling his legs. The chickens were safe. The dog was safe.
He figured if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. No fairies. No unicorns. The trees weren’t watching. The sun didn’t care. He was safe.
Then he saw her walk up his long path. She was watching him for some time and decided to make her move. She needed a place to stay. After they spoke his understanding of safety expanded to include her.
Now they both sat on the porch. He promised to make chairs.
Text: Linked to Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch 99-word Flash Fiction Challenge. The theme is a chair on a porch. Come join us writing flash fiction.
News: Last Wednesday the Prairie Writers Guild held a dinner in Rensselaer, Indiana, celebrating the publication of the fourteenth volume of their series From the Edge of the Prairie. Some of my haibun, which appeared previously on this blog, are in that volume. They print the anthology in Rensselaer. Although I have been a member for only the past year I have known some of the people in the guild for decades having grown up in northwest Indiana.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 