This little story is for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt. When I saw what she had come up with this week, the Cookie Monster and the Groke paled into insignificance. I have inverted the image I first had, and the result is much happier.

For days she had sat by the well and wept. Nothing could stop the outpouring of grief. Her child was dead and cold, the only one she had managed to keep beyond babyhood, and her husband had no words to console her.

“We will have another child,” he said, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her hair where strands of silver were creeping like brambles among the dark.

Continue reading at Jane Dougherty Writes