Friday Fictioneers
The Castle Remembers
The tourists photographed the towers.
Anna photographed the flowers.
“Why those?” her grandson asked.
“Because buildings get remembered,” she said. “People don’t always.”
She touched one crimson petal.
Once, soldiers had marched through these gates. Children had played beneath these walls. Lovers had promised forever, and mothers had waited for footsteps that never returned.
Their names had faded from records, their voices from memory.
Yet every year, red flowers appeared beneath the ancient stone.
Her grandson raised his camera.
This time, he photographed them too.
“Do you think they know?”
Anna smiled.
“Perhaps that’s why they keep coming back.”
PHOTO PROMPT ©Sandra Crook
With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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