Flash Fiction
[Source – Pixabay]
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Crystal walked in the centre of the quiet road, laughing, frolicking, humming a sweet tune, breaking away from the role of the pedestrian, swaying and moving forward, sideways and backwards, sideways.
Reaching on time didn’t bother her, so she jumped out of joy, tapping on the road as if saying hello. The road, a bit confused, said “where to?” And Crystal tapped, tapped, tapped and said, “do you change and grow bigger when it’s quiet?”
Quietly the road began observing itself (and continues to do so even now).
Walking ahead Crystal met a tall tree that mimed some ten thousand stories, each one blowing away with the wind, now and then. She sat to listen, then walked away carrying a dozen (stories) in her pocket.
She has been walking since so long, she doesn’t remember when and where did she start. But nothing is amiss and so she continues ahead with now some hundreds of stories in her pocket.
Crystal stops only near water-wells to drink the cool calming water and see her reflection in it before gulping it down. An older self beams back at her from deep within the well and Crystal, checking her hairstyle, waves a greeting, rippling the water.
The stone steps, the tiny plants, the rope and tin bucket, in union with the well, then tell the visitor (Crystal) a story about the well and the sky. She is carrying this tale along, she dropped some (stories) there to make some space.
And she is walking, walking, walking away… laughing and frolicking, humming a tune, breaking away from the role of the pedestrian, dancing on those days when it rains.
[Image by Piyapong Saydaung from Pixabay]
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