Kendra remembered her mother’s words,
“If the ocean swells, we’ll go to that high place and be safe.”
“Why is our house not on top of the rock then?”
“Because the winds blow day and night. It’s a hard life.”
“But we’d always be safe.”
Her answer, “We are safe enough here.”
Kendra stood looking down at the ruins of the pink house before she turned,
wind pulling at her braided hair until pieces broke loose and whipped into her mouth, over her eyes.
She didn’t need to see. She knew every step to the door of her stone fortress.
This short tale brought to you by the epic photo prompt at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer challenge. Check out her blog and join the fun.
Clare Graith 