This is my first go at a story for Sunday Photo Fiction, https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/, which invites stories of about 200 words, inspired by a photo prompt. This week’s photo is shown below:
Frank felt safe making the confession, but why shouldn’t he? The child couldn’t repeat what he said and there was no one else around.
He dug a hole, just big enough, and rested on the spade.
‘This was our tree, mine and hers. First kiss. First smoke. The first time we … you know. It became a tradition, returning on anniversaries of one first time or another. So, a year after she died, leaving me alone for the first time, this was the place to come.’
Frank pulled the rope from beneath the stroller, fingering the noose before throwing the opposite end over a branch. He reached down and rearranged the blanket to cover the girl from toe to chin.
‘I would have done it then,’ he said, ‘if that courting couple hadn’t been here. I thought I’d visit your mother, try to patch things up, then say goodbye and come back to finish the job. She opened the door and burst into tears. “I’m glad you came, Dad. I’m pregnant”.’
Frank pulled down the rope and threw it into the hole before covering it with earth. ‘It’s their tree now,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home.’