Another in my continuing efforts at creating short form fiction, though I think this is more prose poem than flash fiction. What do you think?
Once There Was A Village
Once there was a village here, where weeds now grow among the willow. It was on this bench of bottom land above the river bar and beside an unnamed creek laughing down from the hills. Right here, where the shadows of ancient hemlock and cedar shelter from the southern storm.
Once there was a village here, just a handful of homes, really. Here, children laughed and sang and played games of life and death underfoot. Over there, a nervous boy first felt the thrill of a pretty girl’s smile. Here, a mother held her newborn son, guided his mouth to her breast, and marveled at his perfect eyelashes. And there, a man and woman helped each other grow old and honored and now smile as death draws near.
Once there was a village here where people lived and loved.
Now there’s only weed and rocks, broken beer bottles and tangles of cast-off fishing line, the leavings of sportsmen who drive their pickups on to the bar, seeking the elusive salmon. Once there was a village here, but they neither know, nor care.