Once he dove under the cover of fog, he knew they would not find him easily. He pulled the clouds over him like a blanket and settled into the green grass, falling into a deep sleep, small greedy grin spreading over his muddied face. So restful his slumber, so pleased with himself, years passed. The rains and wind did not rouse him. Animals became accustomed to his snoring body. Flowers blue and pink and yellow grew around him, decayed, and came forth again the following springs. And once the fog finally lifted, he woke to hoary friends, transfigured and triumphant.

Heather Bourbeau’s

fiction and poetry have been published in Alaska Quarterly Review, The Cardiff Review, Cleaver, Short Édition, and The Stockholm Review of Literature. Her work has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and has been published in several anthologies, including Nothing Short Of 100: Selected Tales from 100 Word Story (Outpost 19), Respect: Poems About Detroit Music (Michigan State University Press), and America, We Call Your Name: Poems of Resistance and Resilience (Sixteen Rivers Press).

Ms. Bourbeau has worked with various UN agencies, including the UN peacekeeping mission in Liberia and UNICEF Somalia. She is finishing a collection of one hundred 100-word stories entitled Tart Juice.

Author’s website: https://www.heatherbourbeau.com/

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ 100-Word Stories From Tart Juice

⚡ How to Talk to a Former Warlord, a poem by Heather Bourbeau in The Missing Slate (18 March 2015)