Photo Credit: James Pyle

Lydia grabs the photo on the fireplace mantle. The photo shows a little girl in the garden. She turns toward the garden, at the spot where the picture was taken. “Do you really have to do this today?” Lydia places the picture back on the mantle and turns to her mother, both hands behind her back. “It’s Christmas Eve.” Her mother points out with a tiny smile. “Tomorrow is Christmas. You do remember Christmas, don’t you?”

Lydia takes a step forward. Christmas hasn’t existed in years, not since it, along with Thanksgiving, and all the holidays Lydia knew when she was the little girl in the photo became forbidden holidays. “Do you understand you have committed treason?” Lydia states.

After the new government came into power, everything that reminded people of the past was burned – books, photographs, newspapers, and anyone found hoarding these things will be tried for treason.

Two guards enter the house. Lydia and her mother stare at each other and for a second, her mother sees a glimpse of light and empathy in her daughter’s eyes but in a blink of the eyes, the light is gone and darkness returns. “Take her away.” Lydia commands the guards.

(200 words)

A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction.