Another beautiful and whimsical version of wings phenomenon!
In response to the Flash Fiction Challenge presented by Jane & Jeren, a short folk tale about left-behind wings.
The heavy-breasted mammatus clouds drifted over suburbia, sagging low in their nurturing way, all grey and worrisome, but the people were so glad the hateful storm had passed that no one noticed the seeds dropping; Dandelion Yellows, Pinkist Clover, Purple-Spike Thistle, cast over the carefully manicured lawns. No one noticed, at least until the next morning when the weeds began to spring forth with all the joy and vigor infused in their happy little petals by the sensuousness of the sky the night before. Squinting in the first glaring light of morning, Mandevilla backed out of her garage and a mask of sour-milk face leapt instinctively from the center of her brunette head. They must go, those invasive weeds! Just one more thing on her Eradicate-This! list for the…
View original post 183 more words
