“Tell me the story again, Mommy,” begged Myrtle.
“Once more, then sleep, sweetheart,” Olive replied.
“There once was a sprout who tried to push out, but she just couldn’t find her way. She looked to the sun, but there was none, blinded by lazy haze. She called to the rain, but it fell in a blaze, so the sprout just withered away.”
“Mommy, will I ever see real plants and rain and sun and a bonfire under the stars?”
“Someday, when it’s safe outside, maybe we’ll discover a sprout up on the surface. Until then, we have our cyber-nature.”
This far-fetched tale brought to you by the Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. The challenge is to write a 100-word or less story based on the photo. I heard a rumor that today (9/4) is Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ birthday. Happy Birthday to our gracious host.
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