Surrounded by the dense vegetation, the little house was quiet. No light glowed, no laughter erupted, and a lone girl sat in the corner. Splinters from the hardwood floor poked the girl’s bare feet. She, however, stayed still. They had told her not to go outside, the jungle loomed, to stay away from the door and window, and that she was safe inside. She obeyed.
I wonder what’s outside.
They clothed and fed her, but she was still cold and hungry.
She looked up out the window. The silver moon was bright. The golden stars were twinkling. The black shadow of trees swirled in the wind.
She stretched her arm up towards the deep indigo sky. At the tip of her finger, the crescent moon Cheshire-smiled. The stars winked. The tree swayed and beckoned to her.
Then, came the faint music of the wind.
Sit out or dance?
The girl rose on her feet.
The prompt photo reminded me of “I hope you dance” by Lee Ann Womack.