This will be the final post for the Photo Prompt Writing Challenge blog. It seems fitting that our Kimmydonn has the last post as she is the last remaining original member of the blog. In just over the past two years, this blog has stirred the creative juices of its participating writers. While some have come and gone, we have all shared the same love of writing and a desire to push ourselves with this challenge.
None of this would be possible without the original idea by Nostalgicmiss. Her initial genius idea is what has brought us all together. It has been a pleasure to be the third and final 'host' of the blog. Thank you for reading and following us along the journey.
Kimmydonn's Choice: Both
Genevieve didn’t often have time to sit and watch the world, so tonight was a special treat. She floated gently to a perch on the edge of one of the many tall buildings around the city. She’d visited one child, appearing in her closet to assure little Monica there were no monsters in it. She already knew she would be needed in another home just a few blocks from here where a boy would wake from a nightmare and need help to get back to sleep.
Sitting on the ledge, her wings folded away, disappearing entirely while she watched the adults bustle around in vehicles and on foot. Only adults. All the children were either in bed or on their way to bed. She missed the time when adults would call on her, when there was enough magic in their hearts to believe in fairies and make wishes. Her jar of wishes had been depleted over the centuries, but she could count on one hand the number she had pulled out in the last hundred years.
The contraptions that stole the attention and dreams of adults, did the same to children, only a little more slowly. They stopped playing games of pretend and moved to games on their devices. There was no room for Genevieve in the life of a child who didn’t imagine.
“I wish I could find a way out. If only I had a fairy godmother to get me out of this mess.”
Genevieve perked up. No one said things like that anymore, and if they did, they didn’t believe in fairies. But this woman did. This woman had been beaten so badly, so regularly, that she thought magic was her only way out. Lacy fervently believed that some form of magic existed that could save her.
Jumping from the top of the building, Genevieve pulled out her jar, hugging it to her chest. Her wings unfurled and she glided and flitted to a dark, dirty apartment. For the first time in a hundred years, Genevieve felt hope.