There came a time when the average age of the local villagers had progressed well beyond that of childbearing and there were no longer enough children to support the story hour offered every Saturday in the old gaol library.
This news hit the phantom children fated to walk the halls of the old Tolhouse for all eternity especially hard.
Whereas they would miss the brief respite from reality offered by the stories, it was the laughter of happy children they would miss the most.
A meeting was called.
A plan of action agreed upon.
In short order, the few children that had been born to the villagers- began to disappear.
This is my response to the photo prompt provided on Crimson’s Creative Challenge this week.