Welcome Weekend Readers and Writers!
Awesome authors and stories here:
This link will take you to the last installment, and so on….
The Burning Sky #11
We traveled at a good pace for a time and the need to find a campsite became acute as the sun began to tick down to the horizon and the shadows grew long across the countryside. A simple, cleared patch on the side of the road might have to do, but if I found my way through to a path or logging road deeper into the woods I’d feel safer and any Family looking for me would too.
Upon contemplating my thoughts the moments before the dingus and I had crossed paths, I sang aloud with gusto a few sky shanties whose recollection did not cause me pain—I couldn’t say why. Except perhaps they came from my days as a cabin boy when that sky of memory was clear and blue, not the burning sky of my nightmares, the one from which we all fell, but did not all survive.
Dammit. The songs died in memory, leaving only their sweet taste on my tongue. I fought the return of the past, fought the maelstrom it brought with it, but in the end I had to let the terror have its way. I pulled the steam coach to the side of the road and let the past have me.