The Mind

The red door is shut, the handle, polished steel. It begs to be opened.

I turn the handle to enter, brave. The room is cold. Two chairs stand in the middle of an Oriental rug. One is empty. A child, stares back. I have seen her face before. A forgotten photograph found inside a weathered cigar box.

A wild- eyed, willow wisp. Her moon- face stuns the dark. Emerald eyes glitter. A stubborn curl falls over one eye, as if to shield her from the world. Freckles dot the bridge of a tiny nose, claiming the familiar landscape of wide cheek bones.

My hand reaches forth.

It is as if she has waited an eternity to place her palm in mine. 

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

Draft Two

Excerpt From A Scene

Free Write

Published by

Anna G. Watson

~ write like a painter

2 thoughts on “”

  1. Hello. So good to catch up with you. I found a section of my administrator settings with comments that never got sent to me. Now why would WordPress do that? Of course, I must look like a complete jerk because I thought nobody was using the page to contact me. But it turns out that they had, and I got zero notifications. So sorry about that. I apologise from the bottom of my heart for the misunderstanding. Thank you very much for your support.

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