She was about five when she stopped crying. But she still crawled into bed with me. Me. The broken one, the brave one, the older one.
My identity was older sister.
I’d been alive three years longer than she. That’s all I had to offer.
She snuggled with me, her raggedy stuffed rabbit tucked tightly to her chest.
Sometimes, on summer nights, we’d tiptoe to the porch. I’d point to the trees and tell her they were our watchers. They would protect us.
I remember those evenings the most. When the skies were beautiful watercolor paintings of our bruises.
I’ve combined two prompts this week:
#writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent which asks writers to use photos for inspiration (the photo above is this week’s prompt)
and Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch which asks writers to pen a piece in 99 words (this week’s prompt: Watchers).
February 16, 2017 prompt: Watchers – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a watcher.