He bathed in the river.
Dark blood flowed downstream.
Tumbling, foaming current cleansing wound and spirit.
Faye stood on the bank holding little Geirmund.
The weary warrior climbed from the water and gathered them lovingly in his arms.
Smelling the top of his sons head, Grimbauld knew he was home.
So, I’m going to try and do something a bit different and see how far I get. This weeks prompt by the fantastic was to write a 50 word piece about “the sense of smell” and, for this one, I wanted to show how that magical smell from the top of a baby’s head would melt even the toughest of hearts :-
Also, instead of writing just one story, I figured I would try and write four. One for Sword and Saturday, one for Macabre Monday, one for Thorny Thursday and one for Sci-Friday. I should make it clear that it’s 9.36am on Saturday here in the UK and I’ve only written the story you’ve just finished reading, so wish me luck! And thanks again to Justin for such a great prompt.
Thanks for reading. Until next time.
Always good to write with the senses. I'm sure you don't need luck but I cheer you on, Dan! Go, go, sight, taste, touch, smell and sound out the other four!
Ah, yes, the smell in a loved ones hair. Something I know well.