Anna Rolland

The Ashen Box

She could still feel the heat rising from the ash through her thick boots as she walked in a daze towards the old front door. Around her lay the remnants of 50 years of family memories. And thousands of years of that land's history. As she crossed the missing threshold, she turned her head instinctively towards the non-existent hall table and choked back tears, recalling the photographs of her grandparents that had forever stood there. Everything was gone. No living room to open birthday and Christmas presents in. No dining room to share laughter and celebratory dinners in. And no kitchen to break news over a cup of tea in.