Kneeling in the soft soil, dirt caked to her palms and legs, tear stained cheeks. Painfully trapped under her nails, the granules scratched at delicate skin. The dirt between her clawing fingers, firm under her palms, packing down the mound. Gently covered with leaves, hidden from sight.
Rain started to pound the earth, summer dust turning to a sticky mud pit. Flower petals placed wilted under each drop, traces of the day washing away with the deluge.
Memory trapped forever under the moss laden log deep in the forest. Grass and debris now covers, that place only she remembers.
This blog post is part of Charli Mill’s Flash Fiction Challenge issued by Carrot Ranch Communications. June 24, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about dirt. You can go with the idea of digging into the dirt as an analogy, or you can be realistic. Maybe a character has “the dirt” on someone or another has “dirty laundry” to hide. Dirt can be rich soil or barren. Get dirty, but not shockingly dirty!