An interesting photo prompt for ‘Friday Fictioneers’ this week.
I stare at the faded wallpaper and I’m instantly transported back to my early childhood. I shiver as I remember how I used to lie in this room and count those little flowers, silently, row by row. It was my way of trying to put out of my mind what he was doing to me, the threats he was whispering in my ear. Focusing on those flowers helped me get through the seemingly endless nights. Now, 40 years later, he’s dead and the old house is mine. I’m hoping that pulling it down brick by brick will take away the pain of those memories.