photo by Andre Benz via Unsplash
When he dreamed of home the colours were wrong – the cool jade shrubs turned lurid magenta, wisps of ochre cirrus floating in a scorched sienna sky.
He’d wake sweating, reaching blindly for a hand no longer there.
There was no home left. No love to comfort him, no eyes to cry for all he’d lost. One night of flame had ended him.
Written for Three Lines Tales. See here to join in and share.
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Wow, that’s lovely. And it fits the photo prompt so well.
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Ah, thank you Crispina. Took me a little while to think of an approach to the photo – the colours were so surreal – but when I acknowledged that it came easily enough. Thank you for reading 🙂
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From your first line I was that intrigued I would have continued even if it meant missing a bus!
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The greatest of compliments! Thank you Crispina 🙂
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This was subtly dark!!
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Thank you! And thanks for reading
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My pleasure! 🙂
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Very nice, and surprising take on the prompt. 🙂
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Thank you JM 🙂
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This sounds like a nightmare that is a continuation of a real experience. The loss of focus is well done 🙂
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Thank you Jane 🙂
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🙂
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