Originally, the following was written in response to a prompt posted for Easel Musings in 2008. This was originally posted on Gather on August 3, 2008.
She was like a little doll, dressed in one of those pretty little girl’s dresses that you don’t see much these days. She had pressed her face against the window, waiting as she did each evening for Daddy to come home.
Olivia was her name, and she was Daddy’s little girl-- Mommy’s, too.
She was singing softly as she waited. Lydia listened to the songs from across the room. They were just little songs; Lydia knew some of them. Others, she suspected that the child had made up.
A car pulled up to the house. Lydia could hear it.
“Mama!” the little girl called, turning from the window. “Mama, someone’s here!”
Olivia moved from her spot on the window seat and turned to pluck her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bunny, from his place on the seat.
There was knocking on the door. Lydia tensed at the sound.
Mama was in the hallway. She was opening the front door, as Olivia ventured around the corner.
Lydia didn’t want to follow, but she knew that she had to.
There were men in the hallway, and Olivia’s mother was trying to stop them.
Lydia stepped into the hall as the first shot rang out.
“Mama!” the little girl screamed as her mother crumpled to the floor.
Lydia gasped. She recognized these men-- Sheriff Matthew Shaw and Reverend Simon Phillips.
Olivia had run to her mother. The second shot sent her tumbling onto her mother.
Lydia screamed and closed her eyes. This was a horrible dream. She shouldn’t be here.
She opened her eyes when the house started to burn. She could feel the heat from the flames.
The men had left quickly after dousing the place and taking a match to it. Their work was done.
Lydia ran from the house, escaping the flames. Once she had covered a short distance, she collapsed onto the wet grass and looked back at what was left of the old house that had burnt thirty years ago.
