Warm, musty air envelopes me, leaving the blustery wind behind. Frozen hands, face stinging, my eyes adjust to the darker space. Objects start making appearances, like actors on stage, their stories as yet untold. I lose myself, and any sense of time, as I move through their memories.
Ghosts of children whisper from above. Stories of heartache, love, labour. Children taken, transported. For their own good, some say. Missing home, they work, pray.
Soft breathes whirl, “Don’t forget us.” Taken by force. Torn from loving arms, to fill an empty land. Sent over seas. Home never forgot. Hearts never healed.
The Friday Fictioneers challenge is to write a story of no more than 100 words from a photo prompt, from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.
PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman
For other stories from this photo: An InLinkz Link-up