Through the bedroom window I could see the forest, its canopy of leaves glistening white under early morning frosts. From somewhere beyond the trees was often heard a distant barking of dogs, the whining engine of a motorcycle, the faint echo of shouts and whistles. And then there was the smoke.
‘Didn’t you ever wonder what was happening to these people?’ asked the old man in the crumpled brown suit.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been to our village; I wasn’t the first person he’d asked these questions. Like the others, I had no answers – only the ceaseless burden of our shared memories.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.
Apologies for not submitting for a few weeks. We’ve moved house since my last entry and a lack of internet connection for over a month meant I wasn’t able to take part. However, I’m back and ready to get stuck into FF once more!