Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is taking a break from Friday Fictioneers this week. She has other commitments. So she’s indulging in the time-honored tradition of summer reruns. I remember the prompt from last year. It didn’t inspire me at the time, but I’ve decided to take another stab at it. My 100 words are below:
Rachael searched wearily through the rubble of the bombed out town for a secure place to spend the night. Another 243 miles to get home, if it was still there. Two weeks of walking had not made her hopeful. She scooted under fallen roof timbers that supported half of a leaning wall and shrugged out of her backpack. Tomorrow she would have to find food and water to replenish her supplies. It was getting colder at night. Soon she would need blankets. She curled in on herself. Hidden from the world, she closed her eyes and prayed not to dream.