Picture courtesy of Dee Lovering
My first thought was that this looked like a village in Croatia we visited when we stayed there one summer. It’s a lovely place – and even if this isn’t that village, I will pretend that it is.
Word count: 102
Sasha listened to the lambs bleating all morning. They echoed off the hills surrounding the harbor village, lingering like ghosts on the wind, wafting out over the Adriatic.
-Mama, can I see the lambs? They’re so cute and fluffy.
-Sweetie, they will be tired by the time the festival begins.
In the square at sunset, smells mingled – garlic, rosemary, hot oil. Sasha’s eyes took in the booths, the vendors, the colors – and the monsters. Red and shiny, their legs in the air.
-What are those?
His uncle’s answer echoed in his head for years.
-Why, there are your lambies, my boy. Delicious!
© Erin Leary
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