He was kind and didn’t laugh at us.
It looked so easy in the guidebooks. It’s pretty. Peaceful.
I think we spend $10,000 on gear, yet it is amazing how unprepared we were. The land didn’t care about our high tech, wicking clothes; the bugs attracted to the repellent.
Mud spatter on his face, his balletic movement helped him navigate the mire as naturally as a dragonfly.
I felt like a hippo with a broken leg.
I remember his boots, mostly duct tape, sitting on crumbling concrete and moss-covered stone.
He wouldn’t accept anything for saving our lives that day.
Word count = 100
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.