“Fluffy off-white wool sticks to the fence and the bramble bushes along the edge of the field. The grass is cropped short but there is no sign of sheep. Unsurprising as a large Alsation can be seen racing across a ridge in the distance.”
“They pushed their way through the thick tangle of dead wood limbs. Every branch and thorn catching on their clothing and in their hair. It was tough and slow going and she began to worry that they wouldn’t make it through in time. But they had no choice they had to get there before sunset.”
“The cards were still standing on the mantlepiece. In a way she felt that if she took them down it would be accepting what had happened. So they stayed there, now a month after his birthday. Seemed silly some days and she had even stacked them up ready to throw away once or twice, but returned a few hours later to place them all back neatly.”
“I was obsessed with the way she walked, the way she moved, the clothes she wore, even, to my embarassment, the way she smelt. I simply could not get her out of my head and she would hang around there poking into my thoughts and peering around the darkest recesses of my brain like a nosey relative.”
I’m wondering what stories lie behind some of these snippets.