The curio cabinet had been in the beach house porch forever.

Each generation of squealing summer children had stashed their treasures there.

Balloon skins, seaweed, acorns, pennies, driftwood, forest and shore finds.

Maizie smiled, seeing her treasure trove of moss, once green, moist, and smelling of forest walks now yellowed and dried. Aged, like she had.

Aged like the beach house she was closing for the last time.

The family decided to sell it to a developer.

Maizie had come to get what she wanted – the curio box and all it’s treasures.

She heard the echoes of children’s laughter.

 

Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers, October 21, 2016; PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

 

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© my frilly freudian slip 2016

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