Flash Fiction: Stone Age Sorceress

We knap flint until evening. The woman makes fine arrowheads, I’m impressed. She smiles at my half-done spearpoint.

I set wood. Placing a crystal, she sings a song of flame. Our fire kindles. This woman surprises!

I offer my arms.

We are no longer strangers.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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