Flash Fiction: Vacationland

Although weighed down by her backpack, bedroll and fishing rod, Maggie maintained a sightseeing pace and altitude.

Maine pine and Moosehead Lake sprawled beneath the flying witch.

She smiled as music drifted from the radio dangling on her broom, then looked to the crow gliding lazily beside her. “Hopping streams and fly fishing by day, campfires and stars by night! Now that’s the way life should be, right Ed?”

He cawed as she swooped down to skim the water.



Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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