Writer's Wednesday #25: Pink Lacy Gloves and Blood-Stained Fields

On my blog, I do an 'event' called Writer Wednesdays. I post a prompt and others(including me) write something based on that prompt.

            She dreams of pink lacy gloves in an old pick-up truck, the lemon-yellow sun shining in through the windshield.  Red and green, memories of Christmas flood her mind.  The pink gloves in a delicate white box, covered in red and green striped paper with a blue bow on top.

            But the sun persists, pulling her from her dreams.  Red and green everywhere… but it won’t be Christmas for months now.  Her eyes finally focus on the fields of green grass, stained red with blood.  She tries to scream, but her throat is dry and she realizes her hands are bare.  Where are her gloves?  A more important question, where is her father?

            She reluctantly opens the door of the truck, its rusty hinges screeching as she does so.  She looks out over the field of gore, a shiver running through her as the wind picks up.  She spots a glimmer of white for out in the field and begins toward it, trying not to get blood on her shoes or the skirt of her dress.

            She gasps as she sees the white is a skeletal arm reaching up from the freshly disturbed earth.  But what it has gripped in its bony fingers disturbs her even more.  It has a tight grip on one of her pink lacy gloves, although it is no longer pink, stained with blood like everything else.  She sits down next to the arm, pressing her palms against her forehead.  What had happened the previous night?

To be continued…                                 

Author's Note

the prompt is the picture