Hazy streaks blurred her vision. She stumbled on weighed down by her burden.
The silo was there, as she remembered it, offering sanctuary as it had done when she was a child.
She staggered inside. She embraced the dark coolness and dropped the heavy weight.
She regrouped. Her parents hadn’t seen her in years. She imagined their delight when they saw her walking up to the farmhouse.
His body would be fine in the silo. No one would discover it until she had moved on, and her parents would not betray her if they did find him.
They had never approved of him anyway.
Copyright Dawn Miller
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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