The pink blossom signalled the arrival of spring. The temperature turned to a pleasant warmth. The skies were blue, the air was fresh. The sense of a new beginning, a fresh start. Optimism and positivity.
Every year the same. The cold, harsh winter left behind. Neighbours emerged from their cocooned houses, smiling and waving. Children appeared in the street again, the sound of their laughter filling the day.
Something felt different this year though.
Beneath the spring blossom the rusting wheelbarrow sat. Left out all winter in the rain and snow, forgotten and damaged. The garden, neglected for months, was overgrown and tired. The climbing plant had covered the old stone ornament, causing it to break and crumble. The veneer of the joyous British garden lay exposed and corrupt.
Elsewhere in the world bombs fell. Children were killed in the streets, their laughter replaced by screams and tears. Turmoil and ineffectual leaders dominated the political landscape.
A stiff breeze blew through the garden. The pink blossom fell from the tree, adding to the debris on the ground.
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Al Forbes. For more details visit HERE.
To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
This month I am participating in the A TO Z CHALLENGE 2017 – a post each day based on the letters of the alphabet and theme. Find out more about it HERE. As this challenge will take up a lot of my blogging time I may not get round to commenting on everyone’s posts, but I hope to find time to read all your stories as usual, and still be able to participate in Sunday Photo Fiction each week.
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