frost

    A corpse was found as the sun rose, in a corner between houses, lying against the wall. The little girl had been frozen to death, holding a bundle of matches in her hand.
“Poor child … she tried to warm herself,” some passersby said.
    
    Villagers had seen her the night before, shivering and roving. She emulated the picture of misery – skinny, filthy, with wide misty eyes. No one stopped, looked, or cared, as she crept. No one minded how she longed for warmth – the warmth of a room with a fireplace, the warmth of a dining table with fine china and hot supper, and the warmth of companionship and love. They rather focused on their affairs and averted their eyes. Not even her closest took particular notice of her.

    Hence, no one imagined that, just as the flame went out and her last breath seeped through her feeble body, how euphoric she was, knowing that she neither existed nor felt anymore. Not a single one.

photo prompt by Sunday Fiction
photo copyright Al Forbes

For Sunday Photo Fiction – December 4th 2016

 

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12 thoughts on “frost

  1. Wow such sorrow. At least that’s how I feel. And disgust that the villagers just walked by her, ignored her, used to seeing her. I want to pick her up and bring her inside. Yet I know how people in general ignore what they are accustomed too, stop seeing the reality of the sadness, only their lives. But I’m happy too she doesn’t have to suffer. Heaven will be so much better place for her, and never cold.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That’s indeed a sad story, Nelkimi. I’ve seen averted eyes all too often. A little girl was begging in Delhi. She had no coat and I was told it would do no good to gift her with a coat as an adult would take it away and sell it for the money they could get. It’s heartrending. Good writing. —- Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

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