Imprints by Dorothee Lang

The first snow came early that year, overnight, in October. The roads were closed for two days, electricity gone.

The houses, the gardens, the people, they all were hibernating in white, underneath thick blankets. The only sign that someone had roamed the night: paw prints, leading to doors, circling the houses, yet leaving no other trace –
no message, no hint – then returning to the wilderness.

Does, the kids guessed, or forest fairies, curious for our life.

The old women shook their heads.

They knew more. But they wouldn’t tell, not that day, and not later, when the snow was gone again, and all were still alive.


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Filed under Dorothee Lang

9 responses to “Imprints by Dorothee Lang

  1. Oh very mysterious and creepy! So, what are they not telling?

  2. randalhoule

    A whole world of unseen here. well done, Dorothee.

  3. Beautiful, Dorothee. It’s like something written in the Black Forest that is only whispered about.

  4. Al McDermid

    Great take on the theme. What is it that is unseen, that the old women won’t speak of . . .

  5. hah! if only i knew. this story is based on a dream fragment. i still can see the start of the dream, the snow falling outside. then it gets hazy. maybe i should try and dream the end. or maybe, better not..

  6. Wolf tracks? Good thing no one got eaten. Very well written.

  7. Pingback: Week #21 – Unseen « 52|250 A Year of Flash

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