Compost, micro fiction written by Nancy Elliott at
Edward Kucherenko



written by: Nancy Elliott



Twelve years it took to build that heap. Layer upon layer, daily, they threw more on the pile. Biting words, sullen indifference, and infidelity lay there with broken shards of her soul and spent casings of his ego. For all the heat building there, it was awfully cold.
One day, he finally just lit a match. Flames consumed the nascent life that struggled always toward the light. Smirking, he watched her vanish behind the flickers. The ashes sifted into earth.
He might hate to know, but the hand of nature, or maybe God, is ever on the cradle. Sprouts appear.

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