After the Storm

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The sun gently settled behind the house and the life around it fell into a soft silence.

Mother was in the kitchen, humming, preparing supper, whilst my brother and I played in the rubble, looking for forgotten treasures.  A wave of dust stirred in what had been the living room, creeping further and further up the stairs, reaching the untouched spaces.

My mother’s refusal to rebuild the shattered walls immediately had puzzled us back then but now I think I understood: How can you steal from and conquer those who have so little left? But still, they did, funnily enough.


This piece was created using the prompt (photo contributed by Sandra Crook) hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple. 

You can find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

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