By R.M. Carlson
Photo Credit @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
She lifted the baby out of his crib. As she raised up, she smelled something burning. She took a quick look around her apartment. She heard the commotion in the street and walked to the doorway. There, in the middle of the usually quiet suburban street, was a bonfire. The fuel was books and the soldiers were gleeful.
Laying her son back in his crib, she started gathering their things. She didn’t know where they would go but away from here. Her son would have a chance at a good life and freedom.
Thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers.
The Write Scribe 