Struggled to write just the 100 words for Friday Fictioneers today. Had to edit from 300 - ish. Hope it still has some sense.
Might still write a poem with in response to this prompt though.
Wild Place
Rosanna pulled back the canvas.
"Wow, Clare look. The sky - pink, purple, orange, hues of blue.
And mountains ..."
Her sister looked through the peephole.
"Wow that's amazing. But I won't forget."
"I know. Let dad sleep. We'll make coffee." Wrapped in blankets they walked to chairs, left out the night before.
" You know they always planned to come here, the two of them ."
"Yes, but not with us, Ros. Dad's just being weird."
"There used to be four chairs," Ros sat down, "lately only two," she wiped away a tear, "and now three. We're here because dad needs this."
