CNF Writing Exercise: Spirit of the Childhood Past
Apr 9, 2021
The air is frigid. The dark soil is wet with puddles everywhere, the water reflecting the dim torches lining the walls. “You’re too late,” I say menacingly, “I can end you at the drop of a single feather.” I hold out a tiny, white down feather and let it fall, watching it slowly float down into a puddle. Floating, wandering-
My teacher calls for me ;we needed to go see the hedgehog exhibit next. I’d been talking to myself, away from my field trip group, playing around with feathers. When they ask what I was doing, I couldn’t answer.