A lifetime of dreams – burned to ash.
The Union soldiers had left nothing but unforgiving flames in their wake.
How cruel to be named Charlotte, meaning “tiny and feminine.” I certainly felt tiny as I watched our beautiful house burn, as my younger brother and I picked up the pieces…alone.
“Look!” Ashton cried, pointing.
There, in the midst of the filthy smoke, stood a single red rose. The entire plantation had burned around it, but this rose held its blazing scarlet head high, daring the world to crush its spirit.
“Charlotte…” he began.
“No,” I said, resolute.
“Call me Rose.”
This week’s challenge at Friday Fictioneers involved composing a stirring piece of historical fiction out of 100 words and the homely picture above.
Here’s my attempt at it!