The blue chair appeared at the end of summer, at the place where the trail broke off and became sand. Almost hidden in an island of trees. A few days later, a hole in the sand with blackened logs laid across it. A backpack, a pair of pants. Scattered bullet shell casings. Tire tracks. A smashed microwave. I got into the habit of checking on the chair, the backpack, the pants, the microwave. I got into the habit of scanning the shadows. Of counting shell casings. Sometimes the blue chair would face forward. Sometimes not. I decided I’d better stop checking.
The Blue Chair
By Lori Lamothe
My favorite part of this story is that it leaves so much to my imagination.
Oh wow. What a story…it leads my mind to so many possibilities…
?? brilliant 101 words! Well done!
Now you’ve got me wondering
Good story
Yes, this story is a real poser……but well written.
Oh my! This is my kind of story. What’s happened here?! Such a great tale. Well done 🙂