Here's my picture and story for this week:
She lay discarded, her heart trampled, encased in mummy’s wrapping. Still alive, filled with revenge and hungry, she quietly moved on tiny feet and began her path of destruction. Flaming red, she reached for any tired and parched being ripe for consumption. She laughed as the tallest and grandest fell at her feet. Gray clouds surrounded her. Despite water from the sky, nothing served as an effective deterrent to her fierce vengeance.
Suddenly, she was born in the air, sparkling like a fairy on the wind. She pointed her tiny wand at yet another victim. Evil cackled and danced, swirling in the wind above her blackened path. Poisons filled the air, putting her to rest under piles of debris. She rested, gasped for another breath, surrounded by blackness. Would she lay in quiet death, or would her fury bring her back?
I wrote this for a short prose competition some time ago. Now it's your turn. Find a picture and share with us a story or poem.