This is my second Friday Fictioneersattempt. I actually had this idea first, but the other onetook flight earlier. I was a little worried that this one might read as being in poor taste, but I’m now fairly satisfied I’ve managed to strike the right note (even if I did have to jettison my preferred title, “Call the Copse” to avoid charges of frivolity). Photo copyright John Nixon. 100 words.
I try to get my kids to come with me to the woods, but they’re happier indoors. I wonder, sometimes, what’s changed and whether the technology has robbed is of something. Years ago, I’d cycle here with my brother, climb trees, build dens, the usual stuff. He enjoyed surprising me by springing out on me from behind a tree when I least expected it. He still does it today, but he’s thirty-five now, and his belly hangs down either side. I still feign surprise, though, because I blame myself for his accident and no one else will come.