Monday Minute Challenge

I finally remembered that I do this thing called Monday Minute Challenge. It's hosted by Tessa Emily Hall over at Christ is Write, The rules are that it has to be 150-300 words long (which kills me- I had to cut two hundred words out of this weeks entry), and has to use one of the three prompts she lists. This time I used two prompts. (It also has to be submitted before Friday, which is why I'm double posting on you all)

Here's the prompts I used.
1. Use the items broken glass, tree house, and sign.
2. Use the words. She knew he was coming back. He must come back. Their very lives depended on it.

I don't know, but it seems to me that when I do these writing contests with prompts, my writing always comes out just a little more morbid than usual. I have no idea where this idea came from. I guess I like to be able to explore different ideas without committing myself to a full length story.

Anyway, I hope you like it. It came out at 297 words.

The girl hovered, careful to stay above the glass-strewn floor. She propelled herself to the empty window casing and peered out. Branches blocked the house, but she could see the yard, overgrown and neglected. She felt sorry for the struggling flowers among the weeds in the abandoned bed. She was flower. Alone and forgotten. Maybe after tonight she wouldn’t be. Maybe she would give her message and her soul could cross over. She turned from the dreary scene and scanned the tree house. She had to stop the accident. Save the little girl and her parents. She’d come yesterday, but touching objects exhausted her and she hadn’t finished the sign. She’d gotten half of it written. On a yellowed scrap of paper, placed here for her years ago. Don’t go. She braced and gripped the pencil. It pricked like needles and she whimpered. On. The. Trip. She dropped it and clutched her hand. Time faded the sting. She waited. She knew he was coming back. He must come back. Their very lives depended on it. A sound on the ladder. Hands came through the hole in the floor, then a head, followed by a body. The man looked tired and sad as he looked around. He’d not changed since the first time she saw him, when she’d slipped from her newly entered world. His eyes fell on the paper. A thrill ran through her as his eyes widened. He read it. She succeeded. He disappeared down the ladder again, urgency ringing in his steps. She watched him, resisting the pull to cross realms for just a little longer. “Goodbye,” She said softly, her voice to him just a slight disturbance in the air. She hesitated. She wanted to say it. Just once, before she left him. “Daddy.”