WINNER: Foundling Review's 50-word fiction contest, Pachaas.

Heavy black leather boots stomp the snow deep as his knees, her shoulders. She, his world; he, in
hers: no wars, rumors of wars, famine, pestilence or death. Not now. Not yet. He stomps a path for
little boots, purple and pink, leading nowhere in particular and everywhere at once. 

Michael J. Mattson lives and works in Montana. He loathes the thought of not living under the Big Sky, and considers travel a tempting of fate, but he frequently allows his mind to wander. It has become adept.




Copyright 2009