By Joe Buckley
They’d been friends for what seemed an era, playing in these same icy waters since childhood. Young then, old now. Old and grizzled and scarred. One had lost an eye, the other much more.
The view stayed the same, with the tranquil light in the sky reflecting down on the serene water. The snow drifted down as it had on their hairless chins; now it drifted on matted beards.
They’d picked sticks before; now it was axes.
They shattered the silence once more with their steel. Just once more.
One walked away, leaving his friend in their secret place, guarding evermore.
Very eerie and mysterious. Kind of hard to categorize this, but I like it!
Thank you, Bobby. I’m glad you enjoyed.