Jake grabbed Meg’s hand and pulled her toward him. There was an evening chill and they huddled together as they ran through the field, the butchered wheat scratching their legs. The bales were bigger than they had anticipated and after giving Meg a leg-up, Jake scrambled after her, finding it difficult to find his grip.
They lay together in silence, Meg’s heart racing. Jake turned to her, ‘Are you ready?’ Biting her lip, she nodded. From his coat he took a syringe but in the dusky light he dropped the needle into the hay. ‘Shit, we’ll never find that.’
Linking up with this week’s 100 Word Challenge where the prompt was …harvest… We had to write something that signifies the word but not use it. So I used an image of harvest, an idiom and tried to give it a twist.
Also linking to #Prose4T