Behind a Window: The Golden Light

My homegirl nowme has been working on a 365 day photo challenge. Her muse has been NYC windows. She suggested we collaborate: she posts the pics and I write the stories. My rules for the micro stories: female lead, 100 words or less


She flung open the black iron shutters. “It’s real,” she said, kneeling on the windowsill. London closed her eyes and reached toward the golden light, afraid to look directly into the portal lest her spirit get snatched through her eyes. When she was knee-high and shy, her mama warned her, “London, eyes are the window to the soul.” Later her mama told her, “When I’m a year gone, put a thimble of my ashes in a pouch, sew into your jacket pocket, then come find me, behind the iron shutters.” London needed her mother. She stepped into the light.




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