‘I am so bored.’ My patient father, smiled at me, ‘want to see my treasure?’ All of six years, hooked to the promise in the twinkle of his eyes, I nodded, my bouncy curls agreed.
Neatly piled souvenirs in all shapes welcomed me in the barn. I stood there frozen, mouth wide open. I picked up the first one I fancied – a dove. I chuckled holding it. ‘That’s a magic dove,’ his eyes backing every word.
‘Everything has magic. And to know magic you have to be the source,’ he always said. I have never been in doubt since.
All Rights Reserved. Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s under 100 words Friday Fictioneers. PHOTO PROMPT Claire Fuller