Another great photo prompt from Angela over at Visual Dare.
The Last Chair
The chairs appeared, one May evening, two years ago. There was one wooden chair for every child in the village and every night, just as the sun was setting, each child would take his or her place on their allotted chair and wait. The adults watched on.
As the sun dropped out of the sky a thick fog would engulf the field, like long, white, spindly fingers wrapping themselves around the chairs and their occupants. There was an unnerving silence, nobody moved, nobody spoke.
When the fog lifted there would be another vacant chair, another missing child. Those remaining would slowly make their way across the field back to the arms of their waiting parents.
Tomorrow night, as the sun sets, I will take my place, as usual, on my wooden chair. I will be the last one from our village, the final child. What then will happen to the chairs?