People fear me. Footsteps quickened whenever trekkers pass by.
Yet, a child’s innocence is magical. Most often, they’re valiant warriors throwing pebbles at my window, playfully screaming, “THE WITCH ON THE FOOTHILL IS REAL! RUUUUUN!”
Once, a little girl braved knocking on my doorstep. She came up in her yellow dress, demanding, “Are you a witch?”
“Am I?” I asked.
She looked at me with watchful eyes, traced the stonewalls with her little fingers then said, “No. You’re not… Witches live in huts, you live in stones. I think you’re a caveman. A cavewoman!”
And that just made my day.
Word Count: 100
© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.
In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo prompt this week is a courtesy of Piya Singh. Thank you!
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