You’re always out. In the fields, the orchards, in somebody else’s back yard. Playing with others like you, dusty, scratched, sunburnt and full of light. In the long summer evenings, you’re inevitably hungry. But you remember rule no.1: never return home. Only for the night. Else, granny won’t let you leave again.
Your churning stomach pushes you towards the unripe apricots, so you climb the tree with your crew . When you’re just about to bring a fistful of the blessed fruits to your mouth, and you can smell the earth on your hands, you see it. Of course- you’ve forgotten that it’s Friday. The red car approaches at a blistering pace, and you run at a supersonic speed down the steep hill, across the plain, and into grandma’s house. You have to beat them there. How else should Mom and Dad know how eagerly you waited for them?
Published in the 58th Edition of the AdHocFiction eBook
Image: Pixabay.com
