This week’s photo for the prompt is provided by Eric Wiklund
Full details can be found here:
Eight year old Hester sat quietly with her hands clasped in her lap.
It was perfect, right down to the eleven stools and fallen log.
Such accuracy, not a single detail had been overlooked.
Harold was stunned.
‘But she’s never been there!’
The doctor turned to Hester and asked if she knew this place.
She didn’t react and continued to look straight ahead.
Doctor Harris then asked Harold where it was.
‘A park close to my grandparents house. It’s not there anymore.’
Hester suddenly stood and taking pen and paper began to draw.
The picture was a farmhouse with cows in one field and two horses frolicking in another.
Doctor Harris almost fainted.
It was her childhood home. She knew it from the intricate detail on the horses, the brand mark easily identifiable on their flanks.
The thought had only fleetingly entered her mind, and Hester had picked up on it.
The child looked up and smiled at them both, her braced teeth glinting in the consulting room lights.
They knew she knew what they were thinking.