Tag Archives: Leaving home

Friday Fiction – Ragondin

This week’s picture from Madison is beautiful, but it wasn’t easy to write about. At least not for me. So I branched out, a little, as you’ll see below. The hardest part for me was the title this time. I’m still not happy with it, so I might come back and change it later – any comments or suggestions welcome – whether they are about the title or anything else.

UPDATE: Sandra’s helped me with a new title. What do you think?

Ragondin

Mother says not to watch it, but it is insistent: each one silently growing, then suddenly breaking off. It seems to shrink in the air. It lands with a gentle plink, and melds with all the others before it, in the rising waters of our burrow.

There is a rumour that this is how we will be. That we are growing silently stronger and one day we will have to leave Mother’s warm embrace, to join the world outside with no more than a plink of goodbye. But I watch the waters rise and wonder if we’ll be big enough.

70 Comments

Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing