SKYLIGHT
Every day Martha slaved in the kitchen, the outside
world only blue sky, scudding clouds, or rain clattering like pebbles. In
winter, snow masked the light, reducing her prison to Stygian gloom.
Her mother said she was lucky to be warm and fed, but
Martha relished the weekly walk home, the crisp cold a blessed relief from the
blast furnace of the kitchen range.
But home was four miles away, and when she twisted her
ankle on an icy puddle she was alone. They found her the next morning, her
hands frozen around a hambone she had stolen for her mother.
.....................................................................................................................This week's story is another hurried one. I am heavily involved in our local village Arts Festival, and have to dash off in a minute to lock the church so nobody can walk off with one of the lovely paitings on display. Also my elderly mother has had a few falls in the past week and sitting for hours in A&E waiting for various tests is not conducuve to writing.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to J Hardy Carroll for the atmospheric photograph that is this week's prompt. You will find other stories by following the Blue Frog from Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/
