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1963 was bad for some.

Copyright Rochelle Wisop- Feild
Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Charlie knew that the snow was deep, when he had to walk back home from school along the top of the drystone walls. As he entered the house the coldness struck him, for some reason mother had not lit the kitchen fire. Even the kitchen window was frosted over. “mother”. I’m upstairs Charlie, please go to town and ask the doctor to call. As Charlie left he heard the cry of a new born baby. Running along the tops of the walls Charlie slipped. His body was found three hours later by a shepherd digging out his sheep.

Footnote: This second story came fast on the tails of my first story for this prompt, I think that I prefer this story. Mike

This Post Has 22 Comments
    1. It feels strange that a frosted window should lead to death and sadness in both stories that I posted today. Even stranger I had a third story in mind, about the regret in a submarine captain. Another story about sadness and death

  1. Whoa! Two different tales and twists and turns. Mike, you’re batting it out of the park!

    You weren’t the only one to write stories about death and guilt this week. No biggie. Creation is creation.

  2. Very well told in how we get to know Charlie first and then lose him. That would be a lot of guilt for any parent to bear.
    BTW I prefer this story too, though I think they are both very strong. I think it’s because Charlie comes across as such a likable boy in the short time we spend with him.

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