Freewriting Fairytale

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Someone is here and sitting on the table and is scowling, looking angry yet comical, flipping their stinky, stringy hair back ungracefully. The brick wall is crumbling, once a proud wall that held photos of a family unbroken by grief, held together with togetherness. No one knows how the table has survived all this time in the elements. Trees have grown up all around the ruined building, long forgotten. The table is the only thing that remains of the once lovely home. Now someone is sitting on it, a grumpy someone with an unhappy countenance. It says nothing, but its eyes say everything. They say, “What’s for dinner?”

Ha Ha Ha

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