They hadn’t known when they bought the house, about that spot in the backyard where nothing ever grows. Everything he planted would die instantly and become black as coal. Being an engineer, he sought to find the truth. One day, he dug into the dark soil while his wife prepared lemonade in the kitchen. When she arrived at the site with a pitcher of lemonade, she jumped and screamed. Her husband was standing there, his mouth hung open as two dirty teddy bears and a doll lied on top of the soil and next to it was a small wooden coffin.
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.