Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction
The following is a piece of writing submitted by Half-lit on November 11, 2008
"My son wanted to write a story of his leaf raking this morning. This is his interpretation."
One last leaf
The early winter fallen leaves crunch under my boots, as I rake under the seemingly dead trees in the cold, brisk midmorning. An ever increasing easterly wind bites me, nipping at my nose, yet I still rake on.Moving desperately, trying to obtain all of the leaves, so I can go in and be warm, yet I still rake on determined to get everything out of the way to have fun.
It has been three hours now yet I still move on.
I try to steal the leaves away from the grabbing grass, as I fight with every ounce of energy I can muster.
One more pile to go; the wind is blowing as hard as can be. One leaf left, I pick and poke at it, then it comes loose, but the wind comes and takes it away. No leaves are left so I go inside to have my hot chocolate.
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