Her screams could be heard a mile away. When her husband came to her side and asked what was wrong, she stood paralyzed with fear and pointed at the ground where a mask lay broken among the garbage. It was their daughter’s mask. She had been wearing it after an accident that destroyed her face. She never took the mask off, not for her parents, not for anyone. The only way her mask would end up like this would be if it was brutally ripped from her face. The husband scanned the trees, desperately mentally chiming where are you.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.