She clung on to the coarse ropes, allowing the burn to detract the tears, willing the breeze to howl down the screams coming from inside, using all the might of her little legs to push her higher and higher until the house no longer existed and through her mind’s eye all that she could see was the beautiful little cottage where mother and she would run away to.
Then one day mother did leave, away to the nice quiet cemetery down the hill.
She never sat on the swing again.



2 thoughts on “Mistaken dreams

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