Flash: Meadowbrook

Photo by Eddie Kopp on Unsplash

Walking hurt, but her tattered wings weren’t up to supporting her weight, so on she trudged. Meadowbrook winced, promising herself she could rest when she reached the end of the blight. There had to be somewhere, anywhere, green still lived. Her eyes too dry to cry and water the endless dirt which used to be the grass of her meadow.

(words 60; first published 3/4/2023, from a FB visual prompt for a writing group I belong to – aiming for 50 words)