Flash Fiction: The Wishing Chair

The old wood chair sat alone… in the snow. Once a set of six, now a set of none. For years she lived in the kids’ room. Clothes, toys, and books tossed on her. On rainy days and at night, Peter and Molly snuggled into her frame, laughing and giggling.

But children grow up. They forget their grand adventures and produce their own offspring. The next generation, too mesmerised by the screen to notice an old depressed chair.

Out in the cold, the chair waited. The sun tucked away in bed; the chair grew wings and wished herself home. 

~*~

Note:
This story is inspired by Enid Blyton’s The Wishing Chair. Or it could be a contemporary critique of modern society and depressed furniture. Your choice.