The noise had been niggling at Nora for a while, sifting into her dreams at the edge of consciousness.
She squirmed in bed. The sound took shape, a whirr of an engine. A saw. A chainsaw. It was coming from the back yard.
She jumped up and ran outside.
Her tree lay in pieces all over the ground. Her dad stood over it, the murder weapon on his hip.
‘It were dead, luv.’
She rummaged through the severed limbs until she found it. ‘N&J’ scratched into the bark. The top of the heart was missing. Tears fell.
This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.
Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.
Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.