One dry summer

In a field in Sussex, UK 2018

In a field in Sussex, UK 2018

Writing Prompt No. 122

The ground was hard and lumpy poking through the thin soles of my shoes.

Two months of heat had dried up the long grasses into thin sharp blades. As far as I could see, a crisp dry landscape lay ahead. I stopped to take a drink of water. Everyone else was up ahead walking fast even in the heat. I took off my hat and ruffled my hair trying to move some cooler air over my scalp. I poured a little water over the back of my neck and enjoyed the cool trickle that ran down between my shoulder blades. A rare breeze rustled through the trees and whispered over my skin. I squinted into the distance. Everyone had disappeared. I put my camera back in my pocket and set off, the weight of my backpack hanging uncomfortably off my shoulders. The straps rubbing the skin under my vest top. I leant forward dropping my head letting the brim of my hat shade my face from yet more sunburn. A wasp flew in front of me and hung about as if trying to find somewhere to land on my body. I brushed it away, the small firm body knocking against the bones of my hand. I didn’t want to get stung today.

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