She combs the soft shoulders of highways for lost garments fossilized in the sun-baked gravel.
By moonlight, she sews her scarecrow children and poses them on the slouching swing set in her yard. She tells herself it’s only kitsch, like bathtub Jesus, but catches herself watching from the kitchen window.
C.F. Carter is a Canadian publisher and writer. His microfiction has been published in Microfiction Monday Magazine and Postcard Shorts.
Delightfully creepy.
Very creepy. I like the imagery.
This is haunting.
I enjoy this so much that I go back and read it from time to time. It’s absolutely one of my favorite things I’ve ever read. I had a whole bunch of other adjective and positive words to drip in this lovely comment section but I’ll just keep it simple. Thank you for creating this. It’s beautiful an almost familiar to me in a way I can’t quite place.
Thanks for the kind words. A nice surprise!