Hannah Morrison was suburbia’s wild child.
Zipping around on her bicycle, zigzagging through manicured lawns, tying coloured ribbons to trees, planting God-awful garden gnomes, decorating for Christmas in summer.
Children need discipline, she needs to learn boundaries, perhaps a boarding school might help – there was no dearth of self serving suggestions offered up by harried neighbours.
Poor Mr. Morrison kept fit walking around the neighbourhood picking up after his daughter, while Mrs. Morrison had become an expert at baking ‘apology’ pies.
Then one day it all stopped.
Suburbia lost its colour and character. No doors opened to surprises anymore. It was as if all life had bled into little Hannah Morrison’s grave.
In response to the 100 Word Wednesday: Week 74 challenge, based on a photo by Bikurgurl