literature

FFM 2015, July 21 - Blood Memory

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He had promised himself he would never forget the smell of that day. A pine forest in the early morning, and the mist dispersing in the sunlight, and the smell of moist dawn, and the birdsong that has its own synesthetic scent, and the smoke that burned in his nostrils, and the tang of copper.

Later he'd talk of going camping, of fishing in the rapids and cooking the fish on his own campfire and of the peace from the city life, and the images remained, but the smell eluded him.

But when another hiker's coat turned red and the coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils, the smell of that day came back to him.
FFM for July 21, 2015. Rest of the entries here: FFM Links- 21 July 2015

The challenge for today related to Hemingway! Yaaay! It involved writing a 116 word story (how old the man would be) using some of his common themes (wilderness and loss for me) and writing at least one polysyndetonic sentence. You can google that. :-D

It was fun, anyway. Vaguely Hemingwayian? I dunno!
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NamelessShe's avatar
I love this--->But when another hiker's coat turned red and the coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils, the smell of that day came back to him.