Tonight in a town square lit by the moon, the Friday Fictioneers gather to write 100-word stories. Thanks, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and Dale Rogerson for this thought provoking photo.
The day had been too long, hours creeping by with the slow tock, tock, tock of her heart. Lizbeth owned no watch, nor could she read the shadows of the sun’s passing. Although she had promised, Mother hadn’t taken time to teach the meaning of shifting winds. And after saying, “You’ll learn to read the waters,” Father disappeared. When brother Paul kissed her, saying, “I’ll return for you,” she believed him, too. Six-year-olds trust so easily.
The day had been full of screams. Now, hidden in the shadows, Lizbeth does her best to interpret the silence crawling across the night.
Up From the Ashes 