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Weekly Contest #246
Claire Nelson stood, waiting, on the edge of the mulch filled box; a few pieces fell onto her tattered white tennis shoes as she pressed her toes onto the side of the rotting, wooden edge. From the looks of it, this place hadn’t been touched since she’d last been here, almost 10 years ago to the day. The once proud and shining metal frame was now coated in rust, no glint of light echoed off the loaming poles, even on a night like this, the moon nearly full and no cloud in sight. The thick chains attaching the swings to the structure carried ...
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