Water In The Lane


Thunder growled from a bruised sky as I sat on a wooden bench. Carefully blowing away dead carcasses of flies and wasps I laid an arm on the sill, taking in the brooding world.

Beyond the window, a rustling field of grass and sage waved. It rippled as if a vast giant were skipping invisible stones across the surface of the Basin.

“I’m waiting for something.” I thought to myself, feeling a restlessness settle in the back of my throat. “Something is coming just under the surface.”

Across the lane, a single line of water bubbled. It’s track forcing a groove through loose dirt and rock. It followed a gradual decline and pooled just under a swinging metal gate. Tracks and old tread marks crisscrossed the gathering water.

For a moment my vision reversed, and I found myself looking into a shifting mirror. Clouds swirled in its depths, echoing my own insides.

“What is it?” I whispered to the glass, half heartedly casting a glance over my shoulder.

And as if in answer a fork of lightning threw itself across the sky, gyrating through my mirror. Thunder shook the window sill, vibrating into my arms, body, and out into the bench beneath me.

Then came the rain.

-M.E. InkOwl


2 thoughts on “Water In The Lane

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