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Monday, March 21, 2011

Flash Fiction


Kandinsky " The Blue Rider "

"I saw the Blue Rider go by today, up by the birch grove. He rode fast."
"He always rides fast in autumn," he said thoughtfully. "Spring and autumn, regular... regular... as a village square clockwork horse and rider tolling the hours."
She mused. "Hooves beating time like Magog 'n' Gog."
In autumn and in spring...

--



5 comments:

Ruth said...

Holy horse (not cow).

I have chills.

Montag said...

Yeh. Me too. It wasn't supposed to be scary, but it insisted. If I see a blue rider this evening... actually if I see anyone riding a horse, it will be most bizarre!

Ruth said...

Indeed!

And yeah, these things just write themselves . . . like a riderless horse!

Creepy . . . and I'm alone . . . Don, where are you?

Montag said...

Did I mention the Rider was.... headless!?

Ruth said...

You didn't have to!!