I languish in this lonely, unfriendly place. Neither daylight nor dark, but a mindless grey envelops me. I hear the chilling wind build and wane, whistling through the dead branches of a lone tree sitting on a nameless hill. Its skeleton bearing witness to the nothingness of this moment.
A Dali clock face draping over a weathered limb would make the scene complete. Time drags. Faceless forms dance in front of me like ghosts swirling about each other.
Then, grey vanishes, the world is bright and sunny. A handsome boy stands in front of me, asking, “Do you want to dance?”
Author Notes: M.D. Smith, IV lives in Huntsville, AL. He has written over 150 short non-fiction stories in the past 20 years for Old Huntsville Magazine. He’s written over 200 fiction stories in the past three years, and nationally published in both Good Old Days and Reminisce Magazines.