These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not. . M’s prompt was ‘September Sunrise’.
Stan stared out across the water, dark and cold, his fishing pole nestled between his hands as he waited for sunrise. It was the best time of day to be outside he thought – the air was still and calm, as if nature herself held her breath at the imminent touch of her golden hued lover.
He tapped his watch thinking it must have stopped surely and reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and double checked the time. No. It was right.
In the distance a shrill siren broke the silence, and somewhere high up on the ridge above him he heard a wolf howl into the darkness, and then another and another, their cacophony echoing down the valley.
He placed the pole at his feet looking out into the darkness, stars still pinpricks in the night sky, and watched as the surface of the lake first rippled and then burst into a silver writhing froth as fish thrashed and gulped the still cold dawn air. And he waited.
At his feet insects of all descriptions scuttled frantically over his boots and plump worms twisted and spiralled their way to the surface reaching for the sky in a desperate dance. And still he waited for the sunrise.
Reaching again for his phone, the glow of the scream cutting through the darkness, he was forced to scuttle for cover as a murder of crows swooped across the lake and then spiralled and screeching, crashed into a the trees on the hill behind him.
Pulse racing he stabbed at the numbers on the phone, but without a signal the incessant beep faded into the darkness. He felt a cold deep within, icy fingers wrapping around him as the world about him writhed and splashed and crashed and howled. He felt loss, desperation and so terribly alone as he looked to the horizon waiting for the golden embers.
And still he waited…
Afterwards 
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