Lora steps out of the SUV and inhales deeply, the scent of dead leaves and humus and apples, oddly enough. She doesn’t remember apple trees around here.
She picks through brambles to the overgrown cabin. How many years since anyone has been here, this jewel in the woods, where they used to hide from civilization?
She eases into the cobwebbed chair on the tiny porch. She has just settled her gaze on the autumn-brilliant tree line when a splintering crash lands her on the plank boards.
Maybe you can go home again, but you have to fix it first.
The Flash Fiction Rodeo at Carrot Ranch Literary Community is over, and we’re back to the regular weekly flash fiction challenges. This week’s prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a chair on a porch. Fun flashes from other writers are at the link.
99 Monkeys 
Ah, so true. Love the weight of the untold story here.
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Thank you!
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One has to fix up that cabin a bit. Too bad about the chair. There were probably many memories associated with it.
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She’ll remember that when her backside stops smarting. 😉
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I felt like I was right there, this scene, and it’s tumble. Yet it imparts a deeper meaning, too. Good job with that last line!
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Aw, thanks!
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That last sentence really grabbed me! Wow!
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Thank you!
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