The plain is white. The mountains are white. With each step I take, the pale buildings fade into the background. Once, there were other things—fairgrounds and picnics, horse-rides and autumn walks down leaf-strewn paths. If I lose my past, I will lose myself. All those yesterdays that once buckled the land are smoothing.
I look back. Cracks are forming. And they snake out towards me on thinning ice. Perhaps the end will be dramatic, after all. Not a blind wandering in the beige wilderness, but a descent into fresh, clear water. Perhaps I will enjoy that.
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Neil MacDonald Author 
You have provided my with great imagery in this piece of flash, lovely
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Thanks so much, Michael
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Very atmospheric dystopia, expertly done.
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Thanls so much, Iain
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You have created, in a few words, a world, a philosophy and a journey! Well done.
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Thanks so much, Lorraine
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this is a journey we all have to experience – eventually. I enjoyed reading this.
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Thanks so much, James
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Beautiful writing! Facing the end like that takes great courage though.
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Thanks so much
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Very cold and ominous, well done.
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Thanks, Mason
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Would that the end would come quick and dramatically. Great story! 🙂
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Thanks so much, Bear
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An excellent snapshot of the last few minutes of a man under pressure…or not…was reading part of your book on Amazon, looks REALLY good!
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Why thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the book
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Very skilfully written, Neil. I particularly liked, “All those yesterdays that once buckled the land are smoothing.” It makes explicit the parallels between the man’s physical predicament and his state of mind.
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Observant and lovely comments as always, Penny
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Dear Neil,
I’m for anything that includes a decent into clear water. Lovely descriptions that put me in the moment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much, Rochelle
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Mysterious. I love the sense of the unknown, and the willingness of your MC to accept whatever it may be.
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Thanks so much, Linda
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There’s a strong sense of resignation in his musings. Beautifully written, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Keith
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Let us hope that the water is so cold as to dull the pain of drowning because that seems to be the direction he is finding himself… Wonderful descriptions, beautifully written.
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Thanks so much. Dale
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🙂
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i love his positive attitude. like they say, if you don’t like it, change your liking.
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He may be more resigned than positive, but you’re right
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So much lost, but he walks on with strength and courage, to meet the end.
pax,
dora
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Sometimes all you can do is keep walking
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And ending, but maybe also a beginning…
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Maybe, yes
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Great story, One must stay wise not to lose oneself…
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Thanks so much, Courtney
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Ooooo I love this Neil, you capture that moment well. A decision or a decision made for you, with no choice but to accept. Looking back and looking forward, knowing the outcome is lost. Well done.
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Thanks so much, Laurie
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Except for the discomfort of drowning, and that you’re dead. Good one, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Trish
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Folklore tells that drowning will present his past to him, one last time.
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And that may be either a blessing or a curse
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Convincingly written! I can feel the shiver …
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Thanks so much
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🙂
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Oh, dear, Neil. A beginning of an end. Well told.
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Thanks so much, Bill
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Strong imagery! I found this particularly compelling: “All those yesterdays that once buckled the land are smoothing.”
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Thanks so much, Magarisa
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Beautifully written
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Thanks so much, Vartika
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He is fully aware & still goes on.
Totally accepting whatever is going to happen.
This is how we must lead life.
Great story.
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Thanks so much, Anita. He really has no choice but to go on
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Apparently a plunge into icy water is a quick way to die.
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That may be of some comfort to him
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A wise and beautifully crafted story.
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What a lovely comment. Thank you
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Nicely told. I found myself reading several times to see if this was on purpose, before realizing that was probably part of the point, so I may never know. So much “below the surface” of this one.
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Thanks so much, Anne
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