It’s The Berries – Flash Fiction for 6/29/12

Photo courtesy Madison Woods

The light is still gray when grandma gently shakes me awake and puts a piece of cold hominy bread in my hand. The sun is rising as we reach the brambles where the berries hang red and ripe. My bare feet are wet with dew. Thorns tear at my arms. The plump orbs thump into the lard pail. I pop a fat berry into my mouth and let the tart juice burst deliciously over my tongue.

Grandma has wandered off again, I suddenly realize. It is while I scramble wildly to find her that I step on the big copperhead.


24 responses to “It’s The Berries – Flash Fiction for 6/29/12

  1. I was meandering pleasantly along, and then you scared the crap out of me. The reference to the lard bucket really brought back memories. They were the perfect size for a young boy. It was huckleberries in the spring and blackberries in the summer. I can smell those blackberry dumplings now . . . .

    mine’s here

  2. Snakes. It had to be snakes. *shivers* The berry bursting was such a vivid, visceral moment and then, almost like a penance imposed for enjoying the fruit, comes the snake.

  3. Damn those Copperheads! Serpents in general, really. And where did Grandmother run off to anyway? Or, in what ditch did she fall after that serpent did her bit with her?

  4. Hi Bridges…I was enjoying the cheerful event (the lard pail brought back memories) then let out a huge GASP !!! Whew! That twist got me. I hate snakes. Hey, thanks for stopping by and giving me the “Razzie” award. It was a lovely surprise. See you next week.

  5. Is a copperhead a snake? I’m making an assumption because I don’t know. but great story with two different perspectives, the beginnings of a story about alzheimers maybe (grandma) and possibly death through a snake bite; it really gives the reader something to think about and I like that very much indeed 🙂

  6. Dear Ron,

    so here I am after two weeks finally getting to your story and again offering apologies.

    This one had me stepping into the way-back machine and setting the dials for 1960 and the raspberry patches by the old haunted houses (old golf club houses) in the field nearby out house. Don’t know as shoes would have helped the little guy. Beatiful imagery and sun sparkled memories.

    Thanks for this one,



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