In the front pew of the chapel, Ally-Ann O’Keefe and her husband Rudolf hugged their two remaining children, little Sally and little Sam. The couple sobbed at the sight of the chapel stage, which was adorned with multicolored bouquets, smiling portraits of six-year-old Susan, and the painful absence of a coffin.
Sally and Sam fidgeted beneath their parents’ protective grasps, sensing some atmosphere of grief but not fully comprehending it. And why was Suzy’s picture out in front? Where was she anyway? Some sixth sense in their guts told them the third triplet certainly wasn’t nearby.
And they were right. 5,000 miles away, in the small town of Praline, Ohio, a fruit merchant unlocked his truck to find a young girl, covered in grapes and reeking of excrement, sitting on the floor of his truckbed.
Words: 134. For this week’s prompt. Whoopdy doo. Didn’t know what to name the story so ha! Take some Ernest Hemingway, who I haven’t even read. Yes, I am a literary piece of trash.
The corresponding piece/sequel: “the ghosts of miners hill“.