for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Junk!
She’d wave her stick as we ran away giggling about our latest prank, we were horrible kids and taunted Hilda repeatedly.
When I left school I got a job helping to clear houses, often ones where people had passed away and nobody cared.
When I was sent to Hilda’s dilapidated house after she died, I pushed open the door, sweeping aside a stack of junk mail and ventured inside.
Scattered across a dusty dresser were old photos of children, one holding a certificate, another dancing, one in a wheelchair, another in bed, and alongside them several faded letters from a children’s hospice.
Thank you, Mrs Hodges, one said, and below were dozens of children’s names; big, small, wobbly, neat, the way kid’s signatures are, and kisses, lots of kisses.
I hope we’ll meet again Hilda, up there, there’s something I really need to say.
Thanks to GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.