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Rated: E · Book · Fantasy · #2332715
Storage of stories written for The Bradbury, 2025.
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#1083113 added February 1, 2025 at 11:07am
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Gamboling
Gamboling

There was no other word for it, thought Gavin. Whichever way you looked at it, he was doing nothing other than gamboling through this summer field. The sun was high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, the air fresh and fragrant with the scent of wild flowers, the grass high and green, and he was running and leaping along in pure joy. Gamboling, in fact. There was no better word to describe it.

Of course, it was usually applied to lambs prancing about in pure happiness to be alive. Or foals or maybe any young animals capable of running and jumping. Hardly the word one associates with a full grown man with more serious things on his mind. Even this consideration of how to describe what he was doing was out of place.

Yet here he was, undeniably and very visibly, gamboling.

The strange thing was that he felt no embarrassment in doing so. It was, after all, in a good cause. Might even be considered essential to existence. And that not only for himself. He had a wife and child to support, let it be remembered. If gamboling was required to succeed in that, he was happy to oblige.

He grinned mentally at the irony. Being happy to gambol and the very act causing more gamboling. As his thought turned to the possibility of perpetual motion, he steadied himself. There was a limit to this, there was no need to get carried away.

He stopped running and stood for a moment, motionless, in the field.

“That’s enough, surely!”

“Yeah, that’s a wrap,” called the director. The crew erupted into motion and began to pack up.

Gavin remained still for a few minutes, enjoying the heat of the day. These pharmaceutical commercials were all the same, always involving running and jumping in bucolic situations. He really ought to be used to it by now.



Word count: 316
For The Bradbury, Week 5 2025.

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