Driving down the narrow, winding two-lane road, was like being transported through a portal in time. A canopy of tree limbs reached across the lane, creating a green tunnel, muffling all sound save the melodic chime of the falls that ran parallel to the road. With her car windows down, she deeply inhaled the aroma of sweet mountain water and rich, oaken humus.
Idyllic as the drive was, the closer she came to the old manse, the tighter her heart felt. Anxiety niggled at her nerves as potentially horrific scenarios played through her mind. She had to anticipate every fault the dowager would find, poking at her like a purple bruise, uncovering those tender places she thought had healed. A single crack in her finely crafted facade would give the old woman the opening she needed to tear it all down. Picking at any old scab with her carrion bird talons, relishing the pain she awakened.
Still a mile from her turn off, she pulled over at a wide spot on the shoulder. Sliding over to the passenger side, she opened the car door. A jolt of cold, damp air washed over her, a baptism of holy water. Kicking off her shoes, she carefully navigated over the smooth river rocks until she stood ankle-deep in the rushing current.
As the icy water swirled and eddied around her, numbing her feet and legs, she wondered why she was answering this annual summons from her grandmother when she didn’t want to, and thinking of no good reason to go other than she was expected.
She looked at her watch and saw that she was officially late. Taking another deep breath, savoring the clean air, she sat down on one of the larger stone, where her legs could dangle in a cascading waterfall. She felt all her dread pour out, washed away with the falls.
The shadows lengthened, the night sounds mingled with the music of the river, and her defiance felt good.
Thin spiral notebook 
Really beautiful. I could feel it, see it, smell it and breath it!
LikeLike
It’s weird because I often read stories about being summoned by older family members. When I do, I sit and wonder what emotion it brings to me, and I’m usually left staring at an imaginary white wall. I just can’t even imagine what a family that summons relatives could ever be like. I’ve just got no friggin’ imagination… 😉
LikeLike
What a well written and flowing piece this is. Oh so very well done you.
LikeLike
Loved this. You painted a beautiful picture and I felt her taking those deep breaths – I’ve been there and I understood and I would have loved to have read more. Thanks for linking up! ~Mary Beth
LikeLike
this was absolutely beautiful!
LikeLike
Very well-written! I too find the description of the grandmother awesome. Interestingly I too have used the word ‘crack’ in the same sentence as the word ‘facade’.
Beautiful photo!
LikeLike
My grandmother makes me feel the same way. I love that she got out and stepped into a stream.
LikeLike
Her grandmother reminds me of Miss Havisham. I love her defiance, her coming into her own. The photograph is stunning, as is the image of her in the midst of that beautiful scenery.
LikeLike
Oh DAMN I love this one hard. Every word flows into the next making the river a metawriting metaphor and the main character and her grandmother – holy GOD the description of the grandmother — so awesome.
LikeLike
This is lovely, Tara. It’s hard to resist the tug of family obligation, even those we know are not in our own good. I hope your character’s defiance did not leave her mired in guilt.
LikeLike