the accident

                                                                 PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

The weak rays of gloaming could barely reach her bed. Her 

grandmother would light a silver lamp and say prayers. 

But today there was no one to follow the sacrosanct ritual. 

Only she survived that fateful day.

Recalling the events had become a quotidian affair and 

the wounds become sore with each passing remembrance.

Limping slowly, she surveyed her desk. The overgrown 

creepers had to be discarded along with their roots. The 

layer of dust accumulated on the window of her past had 

to be wiped clean.

Her face glowed as the aura of the silver lamp wick 

become brighter.





        Written for : Friday Fictioneers

                         
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