Bone White

Bone White

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WpMetadataReadComplete Tue, Nov 22, 2016<5 mins
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Fiction
Fantasy
She placed the little parcel on the bar bench and unwrapped it, the thin paper whispering in the bright silence of the boudoir. Inside, was a comb made of bone. Her stepdaughter's birthday was approaching and she had found the perfect gift for her.
All Rights Reserved
#534
1920s
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My mother was braiding my hair and had prepared my favorite breakfast; honey maple pancakes and bacon. I wore my favorite blue dress and my favorite black flats. My father had prepared gifts for me. They'd gotten me a new bike, a paint set, a flute, and a book called Shallow Waters. After breakfast, mother let me go ride my bike. It was light blue, with a beige little woven basket on the front. As I rode down the hill near my home in the country, sailing by the flowing tall grass, feeling the gravel beneath the tires, breathing in the cool air, all as my dress fluttered in the wind behind me. I had grown up in that home, lived there since I was a newborn. When I returned home, there was a car in front of the house.

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