|PHOTO CREDIT– Copyright – Melanie Greenwood|
A Summer Picnic
Giggles and squeals wake the garden, sparking rays of children’s laughter lighting up its darkest corners.
“Ooh, a maze!”
Tiny feet stampede to the siren call.
An excited murmuration bubbles up as they jostle and squeeze through its inviting entrance.
Voices fade within the entangling puzzle, muffled by writhing, rustling greenery.
Leaves turn to thorns, cries to screams.
Finally, shining sylvan silence once more blankets the beguiling pastoral scene.
One ragged, bramble ripped urchin scrambles from the maze’s exit. He peers towards me then frantically away.
“No, Boy. You’re mine now. I’m Jack.”
I extend a gnarled, knotty, green hand.
This story was written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields' Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge.
Find all the other stories from this week's prompt here.