I set out on a piercing harmattan dawn, seeking answers to my probing heart.
Threading the foot-worn paths into the woods, I scale through the leg-holes to the mountaintop. I ought not to be here, and I’d soon know why…his bones had been frozen among debris, covering this altar. But he had sold me a lie all along.
‘Mama, I’ve been here in the sanatorium.’ His voice comes, wiping off my hurting tears.
This story is a contribution to the Friday Fictioneers at Madison Woods‘ blog. Where a crush of writers are inspired by her photo prompt to express a story in 100 words. Please, click to find other stories.
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