Photo © Karen Rawson
It took Herrol all afternoon to find the crooked steps. The stream’s twists and turns had meandered off-course. Or his memories had.
His chest clutched, spotting the roof peeking over the hill. He’d half-hoped it would be gone, and the old woman vanished with it.
She looked up when he entered, resting the witching spoon atop the bubbling pot. She stared at the empty spot beside him, as though saying goodbye.
Herrol waited for her to speak. She didn’t. This was his fast to break.
“You were right. He wasn’t strong enough. He was too young.”
She sighed. “So were you.”
Word count: 100. Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers challenge: write a story of no more than 100 words inspired by the photo. Big thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting, and to Karen Rawson for providing this week’s photo. Click the link to read the other stories written for this prompt, or to join in!
It’s been a while since I’ve done FF because I’ve been “away” at Camp NaNoWriMo. See my previous post to hear all about it!