Canyons Like Red Camels

A short story inspired by Hemmingway's Hills Like White Elephants. For more of my writing go to andrewhenleywriting.wordpress.com

The man’s grip on the hard handle was tight and moist, the fingernail’s bitten and unclean. Each dark and cold cracked finger coiled on the chipped black plastic squeezed. A kernel of blood slid down the sabre’s curved blade to the earth and smashed like a lightbulb onto the dirt. The man’s eyes moved up from the burst towards the lonely white church. A defiantly resolute middle finger stuck up to all of creation, punching through the alkali flats that stretch from horizon to horizon like a crust of fried snow. Above them, the mounds of rock rose and dipped. The canyons like red camels hid the flaring heat of the yellow sun. The man entered the church, fell to his knees and sobbed.