A Slice of Fiction: Cicada Songs

Overhead, the sky was a perfect cerulean shell. The sun threw sharp glints of light off the pool’s surface. The leaves on the large cottonwood lay like limp flags. There was no wind to speak of, no breath of coolness to be had. The cicadas buzzed overhead. Wichita Falls in August.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s