A short story I wrote.
At the end of the road there was and abandoned house. A figured at the end. As I walked closer and closer I see bits and pieces of a little girl lying on the ground. She was smiling, just smiling, simply smiling. She did not move when I was lying next to her. She did not move when I touched her hand. Still, she did not move when I called for her. She did not move because she did not see or hear me. She was a memory of the past. A memory that will forever last. A memory of how I was as a little girl. I always smiled. I always laughed. I was always playing. I would always lie on the ground and look up at the sky. Look at the sun and see the clouds form different shapes. And I asked myself, did I forget to look at the sky this morning when I first woke up?