The challenge for bloggers is to write a relatively short flash fiction piece inspired by the photo. While there are no definitive style or word limits, try to keep your posts to under 300 words.
It was time to clean out grandma’s attic, but Lucy dreaded it. Boxes, photos, trunks. Memories. Memories of the time they spent together. The fun they had. Memories that meant the world to her grandma, and to Lucy. Each visit meant a trip to the attic. They would look at the old photos, unpack boxes, open trunks. After they finished grandma always had a snack for them.
She needed to let go. To sell the house. Could she? Why? Why was this so hard. Could she watch someone else live there? Make memories? Would she be okay with that? She sniffled. A tear graced the corner of her eye. She could picture her grandma smiling at her, wiping the tear. God, she missed her.
The door creaked as she opened it. The house still smelled like her, a floral woody mix. She laughed as she remembered her grandma spraying her with it. Lucy took the steps two at a time and when she got to the top, she stood in front of the attic door. She reached for the knob but pulled her hand back. This would be the first time she went to the attic without her.
Lucy hesitated. You can do this. She sucked in a deep breath and started the climb. Nothing had changed, the steps still groaned as she went up. The top door was shut. Why? Grandma never shut it.
She turned the knob and went inside. It looked—different. Everything had been moved. Her eyes went to the table in the center of the room. On it, a book. She had seen it a few times, but her grandma never opened it. Her only comment about it, not today. Someday.