Two Years…

Last weeks Chapter


He stood in his bedroom and stared at the blank walls. It had been two years since he was last here. He closed his eyes remembered that last Sunday morning. The sun shining through the window, his wife’s smile as he pushed back a strand of hair from her face. The tilt of her head. The glint in her eyes.

The sudden interruption as their kids burst through the door to join them. He dared a smile as the memory played in slow motion.

Had it really been two years?

Two years since he and his family had been murdered.


Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot


Published by

R. Todd

I'm older than I think I am and younger than I feel. I'm stuck in the 80's but relevant to today (oh I hope that last part is true). I think I am more of an enigma than I really am, but somehow still confound those who try to figure me out (or they just look at me weird, so I infer that). And I really hate my first name. Husband, father, Navy Vet, UCF graduate, cat owner (translate.. slave), wannabe writer, and all around big kid who is stuck in an adult world. Overall, I just... um.. something to something, blah blah blah. And that's all I got to say about that.

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