New England Hills – Flash Fiction

The afternoon was hot.  His grandfather said they needed to work further than the fields.  He knew that meant in the brook.  His grandfather didn’t ask permission to live his life.   Men from town said they weren’t suppose to use the water from the brook, but they needed it.   He could smell the corn growing.

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Photo taken by me.

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4 thoughts on “New England Hills – Flash Fiction

    • Busy! The room is ready and it could be any day now. Excited, nervous, happy… We’re ready! That and I’m on the final ‘curve’ of the book. I hope to finish it and send to an agent asap. How are things on your end?

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