Charlotte brushed the leaves and limbs back from the roots and reached inside the concealed space under the tree.
Her fingers closed around the rusted box and she pulled it out of its secret place.
The hinges of the metal lunchbox squeaked and screeched against her effort as she coaxed it open.
Inside were her treasures… a Plymouth key ring belonging to her father and a broach her mother had worn every day.
A baseball card sat under a matchbox corvette that had belonged to her little brother.
This is all that remained from the fire 25 years ago today.
PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson
100 word count
This is my entry for Friday Fictioneers May 2, 2018 hosted by our lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It is a wonderful challenge. Please follow the link to give it a try!! 🙂
Rose sat very quietly in the early morning mist listening to the air around her. It was almost noiseless except for her own breath and the snorting and stomping of the mare beneath her.
She reached down to pat the horse and whispered, “Good girl, just give me a minute, ok?”
The girl recalled all of the sounds and smells from the last time she was here.
The memories were still there.
It was the last early morning ride Rose would have with her mom before she was killed in an accident 2 days later.
Submitted for Friday Fictioners.
This is a wonderful community of writers lead by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you are interested in trying this little exercise please go to link above and join in! 🙂