She Did Not Care

She stood on the rock. She was high above all that surrounded her. Looming bull pines blanketed the neighboring hills. Here and there a leafy tree could be seen speckling the hillside with autumn color. The sun was nowhere to be found. But she did not care.

She felt the light mist of rain against her cheek. The weather had been teasing her throughout the entire day, threatening to pour. But she did not care.

The wind tore right through her light shirt, chilling her skin. The flannel tied around her waist blew viscously in the wind, threatening to drift into the valley below. But she did not care.

In the distance, she saw the evidence of pouring rain; lines streaked the dark sky. Looking down, she saw brown dry autumn grass lying at the boulder’s base. But she did not care.

The remains of a once thriving tree stuck out of a crack in a nearby boulder. All that was left was a dark dry skeleton. But she did not care.

She smiled. Her eyes expressionless. Her lips purple. Her face pale.

The wind whipped wildly at her hair, pulling loose strands away from her face, and then across her eyes in the most annoying of fashions. But she did not care.

Her eyes closed. Her muscles relaxed. Her weight shifted, and she leaned back. A ghostly smile still covered her face. She fell. But, she did not care.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Danielle Flinn’s story.