A distant dog howled as a single yellow searchlight passed slowly across the room where we huddled in silence. Outside, the wind continued to shriek. Heavy raindrops crashed against the cottage’s misted window panes. Inside, only one sound, the gentle hiss of a gas lamp above the dusty stone mantle.
“When will father be back?” my sister whispered.
Our Mother’s face was drawn and worn. The empty look in her tear-stained eyes revealed the truth, even if her words remained defiant.
“Soon, child, soon – now sleep.”
A stooping shadow scurried past the window. An impatient knock sounded at the door.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.
This is a much more open-ended piece that I would normally write. However, it’s the scene which came into my mind, so it’s what I wrote. Hopefully you can find your own ending.