This story is for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly prompt Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives on her blog, Addicted to Purple. We get a photo and no more than 100 words to tell a story. This week’s photo is from Douglas M. MacIlroy. Also, if you’d like to read more responses to this prompt, or if you’d like to add your own, click on the blue frog below.
My take this week is grim. Sorry about that! Not sure how I got there…I think I was trying to make sure it wasn’t just a playful romp, but still had some plot, since the picture seemed so happy to me initially, and I think I overcompensated!
The New House
Daddy tried to make unpacking exciting, chasing us with grandpa’s diver’s helmet, but even as we squealed, we felt dread.
That night, there were strange knocks and shadows.
We grew to accept these.
Eventually, we began to see another family: a father, mother and two boys.
In our dreams, the father and mother told us to leave. The boys warned of consequences. We woke from their pinches to see our doors swing open.
We didn’t leave. Not in time. After two years, Daddy fell down the stairs and died. Mama sold the house, and we left, two years too late.