The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.
Somehow the possibility just hadn’t occurred to him, not that it was impossible, but as it had never risen to mind he’d never confronted the reality until he’d arrived at the site. There was nothing left, nothing except the shattered remains of some sort of shelf or cabinet.
Everything else, every frame and timber and Tupperware, was gone as if it had never been.
“Holy Heck,” he mumbled, stunned into just standing and staring.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He took a breath to speak, closed his mouth. Tried again. “This is the site. This is the site but…”
“Nobody’s lived here for years.”
He cocked his head. “Yes… no.” Looked around at specific points which proved this was the correct plot. “Where could they have gone?”
He heard her walk away, glanced back, before moving over to kneel before the cabinet.
“Virginia,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
Knife-craved on the back of the cabinet were the words Croatoan II.