Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to Sandra Crook for her photo that prompted my story and all the others here; https://rochellewisoff.com/
GHOSTS OF WAR
Tuesday afternoon was not the best time to arrive in a small French town wanting lunch. Shuttered shops exuded an air of desolation and Gerry voted to drive on, but I wanted to explore.
In the square, fallen blossom formed drifts around a dry fountain and the air was deathly still. Fear gripped us as the flowers adorning the colonnaded Mairie were transformed into flags emblazoned with swastikas, and heavy boots stamped the cobbles.
Then a shutter banged in a sudden breeze, and the flags were flowers again, but when I touched the walls my fingers found bullet holes.