That far left side, the abandoned road, empty it lies, as passers-by pull in from time to time. The land beside it filled with new born, a gift, as death leaves the land to mourn the harsh months of past, and blesses the soil with fragile youth not yet tainted by the months to come. A casket heart on a silver chain encloses a photograph, the travelers leave their mark on it, with tire marks and dirt. A memory to keep with the heart; worn into the road. The night begins to dress itself in days mourning gown as it contemplates the day gone by and ponders what will come of the next year.
A short story in which I was asked to include a randomly chosen object, setting, season and time of day without specifically naming them. I was given the setting: hard-shoulder of the motorway, time of day: evening, object: locket and season: spring. I hope I was able to actively conveyed these themes through this short prose without leaving my own writing style behind.
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