Bones of yesteryear

Copyright – John Nixon

Each year the rains come and the waters spill onto the cracked, dusty earth, washing away withered leaves and twigs in eddies and swirls around the bases of the scarred trees, whose bodies contort and writhe ever upwards in supplication to the shimmering yellow orb in the sky.

The waters rise and cover the gnarled and twisted arcs of roots which span the detritus of aeons; bones picked clean, memories flowing away to the vastness of the seas beyond.

β€œLet nature do the work”, Dad said.

He was right; of the body I dumped here last year, only bones remain.


About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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23 Responses to Bones of yesteryear

  1. Great last line – out of the blue. Does Dad know, I wonder?

  2. Subroto says:

    Nicely done. A story of harmony between nature and evil.

  3. Daddy Dearest… partners in crime…..

  4. Dee says:

    Great descriptions and an unexpected twist – loved your last line.

  5. Hopefully that wasn’t what Dad meant, but who knows with this group! Father knows best.


  6. Jan Brown says:

    A father-son team of hit men? Intriguing!

  7. Sorchia D says:

    Always listen to your elders. Maybe it’s a family business. Good 100-word story.

  8. elappleby says:

    Lovely first sentence. And a gruesome end. Great stuff πŸ™‚

  9. Nan Falkner says:

    Really, really unexpectedly good! I wasn’t expecting Daddy Dearest in on the mayhem. Good job! Nan πŸ™‚

  10. K.Z. says:

    great job with the last line, shocking and so evil.

  11. Dear Imaginator,

    Or do those bones belong to Daddy? Intirguing.



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