New Forest
by Sara Crowley
An expanse of trees, grass, scrub, heathers, sky, space.
"What about these then?"
A grey horse, the type her gran would have placed a bet on, approaches.
"Don't like flies?" he asks.
He holds her gaze, walks closer. Seventeen black flies crawl over the right side of his head.
"What about these then?"
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Author's Note
This is the tiniest fiction I have had published. It was in elimae September 2008. I'm not sure why I love it so much, but I do.
Other stories by Sara Crowley
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is this supposed to be hot? cuz it kinda is. thanks for reading mine, btw.
I don't know what to say about this, except that I dig it. Definitely feels like an elimae story too (not that I could define what that means either).
Is there an allusion to the New Forest in Dorset? It's an intriguing piece, Sara, does the 17 have a specific coded significance?
@ Laura. Hot? Yikes. : )
@ Matt. Thanks for reading. I don't know what to say about it either! Thrilled that you dig it.
@ Elaine. I was on hols in the New Forest last summer when I jotted this down. No significance to the number, it just felt right. My gran would always bet on grey tho'.
I love this.