In the Bleak Midwinter
It’s a chilly midwinter’s day and, heading to the large tree near the derelict farmhouse, my boots sink into the waterlogged earth with every step.
Drawing nearer, I’m filled with a gloomy presentiment. The trees are stripped bare by winter winds and the fence delimiting the old farm is in an advanced state of disrepair.
It’s so different from my childhood memories.
Then we danced and sang, running around the tree, stopping only to eat a picnic from the wicker hamper. Refreshed, we would play hide and seek. The winner would have a kiss.
But when I won, you obstinately refused my lips.
You tried to escape, but your shiny pink shoes caught in the grass and you tripped and fell hard. I stooped down to claim my prize but you turned your pretty face.
I didn’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice.
It took me all afternoon, with the aid of a spade from the shed, to bury your little body deep behind our oak tree.
But every year I come back to visit you.
I’ll come back in the summer next time.
Winter, without a generous covering of fresh snow, is so bleak.
I really must do something a little more cheerful next time 🙂 I don’t quite know where that came from.
The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story. The Photo prompt above is © A Mixed Bag, 2016
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