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...

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5 comments:

  1. RuthMonday, March 21, 2011 1:23:00 PM

    Holy horse (not cow).

    I have chills.

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  2. MontagMonday, March 21, 2011 4:34:00 PM

    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!

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  3. RuthMonday, March 21, 2011 7:57:00 PM

    Indeed!

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

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

    ReplyDelete
  4. MontagTuesday, March 22, 2011 3:49:00 AM

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

    ReplyDelete
  5. RuthTuesday, March 22, 2011 5:43:00 AM

    You didn't have to!!

    ReplyDelete