Freddy opened the small canvas-seated fishing stool his grandson had bought him five Christmases back and set it firmly on the woodland floor. From his satchel he pulled out his props – a sketch pad and pencil. The fabric creaked beneath his weight as he settled, but he was used to that now. He opened the pad at the part-drawn tree. And as he had done every day since Poppy ran away, he waited. Some days it seemed to him she did speak. But most days her head and her voice remained hidden in the tree that had taken his beloved away.
crispina kemp 
Very intriguing story!
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Thank you. Seemed to fit
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Indeed.
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🙂
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I love that you used this photo for the prompt and it does look like the body of a woman! I dunno that I can come close to matchy-matchy on this one 😉
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I had put it on twitter and asked what anyone say. The responses were interesting
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I saw that… It’s what I meant by my comment.
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🙂
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Wonderful!
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Thank you, Nan 🙂
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You’re welcome.
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🙂
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A very mysterious take, Crispina
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It didn’t go the way I intended when I first took the photo. But I quite liked this way
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That was beautifully poignant 🙂
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Thank you 🙂
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