Picture courtesy of Dawn Q. Landau
This picture leads to more questions than answers. Time, erosion, one hell of a storm….how did this little building end up there, with stairs up the rock? I love the idea of it. When I saw it, I had to give it magical properties.
Word count: 100
Edna walked this beach daily, down and back. Their constitutional, they’d called it. She walked alone these days, widowhood a mantle she never claimed.
Seeing the red room on the rock, Edna puzzled over how it came to be there. Dropped to earth, it seemed. She gave it wide berth for days, something ominous about it.
Late one afternoon, she spotted a light glowing in the window. Cautiously, she approached to get a better look. A glow emanated from the doorway, and through it, she spied her husband, beckoning.
A tentative first step, then another. At last, she was home.
© Erin Leary
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