Come calling

This is my attempt to this weeks Sunday photo fiction.

The young girl pointed out of her window, and turned to her mother, excited. “Mummy, it is here again!” She looked back, her breath frosting up the glass of the window so that she had to wipe it in order to keep looking. “Can we open the window?”

The mother sighed because she was sick of explaining why they could not have the window open. The girl had been ill for a very long time, and if the mother was honest with herself, which she really did not want to be, then their daughter was about to die. The mother did not even want to consider this.

Instead she looked outside at the single dove. “If we open the window, then we might scare it off. We don’t want to do that, do we?”

“He will not be afraid, mummy, as he is my friend, and we are going to leave here together.”

The mother smiled indulgently at the girl, before leaving the room to carry on with some chores. When she returned later the young girl had died, and she was not surprised to see that there were now two doves sitting on the roof.

“Fly free,” she whispered.

18 thoughts on “Come calling

  1. Pingback: AngieTrafford

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