“Wait, stay still!”
The little girl is stranded, her hair entangled in the razor wire, under which her mother has attempted to drag her.
I drop my cameras, shrug off my back-pack, and rummage for a pair of nail scissors. As the child sobs hysterically, I snip off her long black locks, leaving her stubble-headed but free.
Turning away I see that my cameras and back-pack have disappeared into the desperate queue of humanity snaking off to find a better life.
“Sorry,” says the mother, shrugging, embarrassed.
“Thank you,” says the child, offering me her only bruised and worm-eaten apple.
This week’s prompt comes from SWMBO, Russell’s other half. I must confess, this one nearly had me stumped for a while. Thank you to Rochelle for her continuing ministrations to this happy band of humanity, the Friday Fictioneers.