The Narrow One

A fold-in short story

Photo Courtesy Of Author

Where is he going? He has to stay ahead. The firelight did not look behind snow half way in his arms. He waded across gray fall, woke all night; the fallen life again. He’d unfolded beneath the shivering fire, looked at the light. The sunken rage. Useless. Much more long would be all impassable. Out of the drifts, the stillness and the eternal darkness. The pack and up boy and a crashing cutting down to dry…