By J. A. Johnson
The man hid anxiously in the shadow of the wall. He heard thunder in the distance. The approaching rain would cover his flight; the forecast predicted a great deluge. The timing had to be perfect. It would be an hour before he was missed, but the rain would fall long before then. A cool breeze preceded the drop that fell on his neck. In a few moments he would dash across this open turf, to sweet freedom. Then he heard the baying of the hounds. “Too soon” he muttered to himself as he rose and darted across the barren prison yard.
Very visual. I saw it all and smelt the rain. I liked it.
Gave me a visceral feeling as if I were there – great!
I like the way this story is written, both the economy of language and the feeling it conveys.