[Short Story] Gray Sunset, Red Dragonflies #RainbowCreativeClub

There is a small park at the end of the embankment.
The slide is broken, the sandbox is buried in rubble, and a single rusted swing creaks back and forth against the backdrop of a gray sunset.

A boy was sitting on it.
With small hands as grimy as work gloves, he grips the chains, one shoe kicked off, slowly kicking at the sky with his bare foot.
Red dragonflies fly in swarms, glowing like blood in the soot-stained light.

I passed by them while pushing a cart carrying fish to the harbor.
The wind is cold, carrying a mixture of salt, rust, and the smell of charred wood.
The boy looks up, his eyes following the red dragonflies.
I do not know what he is thinking.
But as I watched the bony line of his small back, for some reason, I could not bring myself to speak to him.

The sky is a dull leaden color, and smoke from the ruins still rises faintly across the sea.
The sight reminded me of my own childhood.
The red dragonflies I saw while evacuated, the friends who never returned, the home I lost.
My chest tightens.

Every time the swing creaks, the chains tremble and make a sound.
The boy's shadow stretches long, blending with the shadows of the red dragonflies, melting into the gray sunset.
I walked on without stopping.
Behind me, the sound of the small chains creaking faded away, and the sound of dragonfly wings rubbing together, like the rustling of feathers, remained in my ears for a long time.

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Afterword

I participated in the Rainbow Creative Club's theme Red Dragonfly
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I imagined red dragonflies dancing amidst the post-war rubble and soot-stained air.