I’d come out here every day. The dilapidated old shack appeared so close. I felt all I had to do was stretch out my hand and I’d be able to touch it.
It wasn’t much to look at but it was my home.
As a child, life had been hard and I realise now you had no choice but to send me away. Arrange for me to travel through the gap. Hoping I’d make something of myself.
And I have.
Yet despite my wealth, I still can’t discover how to step back through the portal and return to my home.
A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers
Categories: 100-Word Stories
A writer of short stories.