A freewrite

So I haven't written prose in a while. And I opened a new Final Draft document but ended up running away, so I did this instead. It's rough and short, but after being blocked for a while... it's something. :)


"What are you doing?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, and picked up another stone to skip it across the stream.

The breeze ruffled through a nearby branch shaking a few leaves from their perch, fiery in their death.

She watched them flutter to the ground. "I've always wondered why leaves are prettiest when they die."

"Isn't that morbid?" he said, the stone agreeing with a wet plop as it sunk. "Damn."

"Your mother told you not to swear," she said automatically.

"You better not tattle."

"No, I won't. And no, it's not morbid."

"What's not?" He wasn't looking at her, instead examining yet another stone, this one flatter than the other.

"Thinking about the leaves, when they die. Think about it. They turn such pretty colors."

"Maybe they've got the right idea," he said, tossing the stone in his hand thoughtfully before chucking it into the water. It resounded with another plunk. He shrugged. "Going out in a blaze of glory and the like."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, now sitting beside him, legs dangling over the creek bed.

"Dunno. Heard it somewhere."

"Oh. Well, maybe."

They sat in silence for the rest of the afternoon.