PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Annie’s gaze kept coming back to the flower high above the rest of the planter, stretching to find one last ray of the sun before it slid under the bridge.
Would the sun get wet when it dropped into the ocean? Is it so hot that even the ocean can’t smother the flame? And why is that flower reaching so hard to catch the warmth? It was never cold here.
But then Annie saw the whole picture, the rest of Mommy’s plants shrouded in darkness, and she understood.
She hated going to bed. There were bad things in the dark.
(PS: Word Press has taken out the little icon that showed the word count. I’ve discovered, though, that if you click on “Block” in the right panel and then highlight your story, it will show the word count. Maybe you’ve all discovered this. I’m a little slow with the tech stuff 🙂 )