Her face was stern, framed by a golden light as the sun shone through the window. Her hand came swiftly down to smack a small hand. Mama?
But, the farmhouse is miles from The Rock where I spent so many days in despair. A small child made a quick retreat. Once outside he held up a tartlet. As he raised it to his lips his eyes closed, his mouth watered.
He spit it out and opened his eyes. The golden light of the relentless sun burned him. It tasted of salt. He was lying on a bed of water. For how long? One last gulp and the air was gone.
word count: 110
Linking up, by the skin of my teeth, to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. There may not be time to link up, but there’s still time to visit and read some amazing stories.