This is another short story for the weekly prompt competition at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, which runs from Monday to Monday on a weekly basis. Thank you so much for reading and enjoy!
It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me the way she was looking at me. Her green eyes were bright, free from accusation. There was no hatred there; there was no disgust or anger. There was only love.
She leant down beside me, dirtying her fragile-looking skirts in my muck, but she didn’t seem to care. She leant down close – closer than anyone had in a good long while – and whispered,
“I think it’s beautiful.”
Tentative, she placed one hand about my cheek. My breath caught in my throat and I reached up to touch it, but, before I could, a sharp snap on the back of my head sent me reeling.
“She’s six years old, you creep!” shouted the girl’s mother, dragging her from my grasp.
I sighed, watching the girl as she bobbed helplessly away.
People were too quick to judge. They thought that, because I made street art, I was homeless, and because I missed human contact, I was – I shuddered.
People disgusted me.
If you’re looking for more prompt challenges, check out my Sunday Scrawl.