Rochelle set us a one hundred word flash fiction theme, prompted by a photo, each week. Why not give it a try?
Jenny Murray spotted the stranger sitting on the gravestone, sobbing. Jenny and Martha went over to find out what was awry. He could hardly speak between the sobs: his heart was breaking.
“My daughter, Anna, I can’t find her anywhere.”
Soon there was a small crowd of churchgoers gathered around him, trying to offer solace, clucking and cooing; whilst another group wandered up and down the lane, searching and calling out to Anna.
Jenny asked “When did you last see her?”.
Still weeping, he answered “Nineteenth of August, 1972”. (89)