The Crossing


The mist was heavy with the scent of freedom. The freedom that was beginning to slowly emerge with each step we took forward. Our pulses were racing as the dawn light got brighter and our footsteps took on a more urgent pace.

Our absence would be soon noticed, and we knew it. The fake bodies made of old sheets and blankets lying together in bed would not fool anyone in the light of day. Honestly, I do not think they would have fooled anyone in the night either, but we had to get away, there was no time to make works of art,

At last we were on the bridge. As if our legs knew the end was near they broke into a run. And the air echoed with the sound of ricocheting bullets as our bodies were swallowed in the mist…


©JG Farmer 2014

To be continued…


Author’s note: I am rerunning this flash fiction serial for my dear friend and reader, Elizabeth.


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