The air outside was dry and cold. I felt my skin cracking as the wind blew on my face. My thoughts were not on the road ahead of me but on the memory of a warm hearth and the taste of savory stew. I patted my cheeks to see if they were still there or if they had frozen off. Only five more miles to go and I’ll reach the gas station. If only I had listened to the reports. In the distance I saw black smoke rising, but I was not sure how far away it is. I walked a little faster. Maybe it isn’t true, I told myself.

The sun was high in the sky, but it was hard to tell with the blanket of clouds that covered it. Barren fields to my left and right filled my vision. Pockets of woods speckle the distance edges of my view.

Just keep moving forward. You can rest when it’s over. I felt it before I saw it. Something is off. I moved a little closer and squinted my eyes. There was something in the road. As I got closer I finally made sense of what was in front of me. Somebody had pulled off the barbed wire from either side of the road that lined the fields and made a makeshift barricade.

I couldn’t see a single car on the road ahead, but the smoke I saw earlier was now a huge pillar of smoke. I put my hand on the barbed wire to push it down, so I could climb over. A shot rang out and I heard the bullet whizz past my right ear.

That little snippet was a writing exercise I gave to myself. My sketchbook’s prompt for today was barbed wire, so I decided use it as a writing prompt too. Please like, comment, and subscribe. It will really help my site grow. Thank you.