WRITING PROMPT NO. 147
Music, faint and distant, came and went carried on a breeze that meandered through the lifeless trees.
The sound stopped and the silence of the burnt forest settled like a heavy blanket. Wisps of smoke curled and drifted high into the air where it formed a thin veil within the charred framework. An acrid smell of smoked wood, singed vegetation and dead animals lingered.
Somewhere above was fresh air. Here on the forest floor, the oxygen had been depleted. A group of people coughed as they tried to capture lungfuls of air. They had survived. The survivors, clothes blackened from brushing against charred wood picked their way through the debris and fallen trees. A baby cried, its tiny vulnerable voice echoing until it disappeared into the distance.
“Where was that music coming from?” said the mother of the baby. She was stopped, cradling her baby, calming his cries. She began to sing a soft lullaby, her warm breath covering her baby’s eyelids until they closed and he sighed with sleep.
Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.