It was, perhaps, the meanest act I’d ever committed. Certainly the most inconsiderate. But I was only ten-years-old, so what did I know?
My father loved to build miniature settings. He had constructed an elaborate village around his HO scale train set in our attic. It included a train station, post office, church, store, and a few homes. There were painted roads with small cars and trucks and tiny little people. It was fully landscaped with trees and shrubs, hills, and a creek. A true work of art.
For Christmas one year, he decided to build a little fairy village on our patio for my younger sister. He constructed it from twigs, straw, branches, and stones. He built a tiny church, shed, fire pit, table, and bench. It was exquisite.
He finished it just in time for Christmas and, when Christmas morning arrived, my sister and I eagerly opened our presents. My favorite was a 20-inch tall Godzilla monster doll.
Dad escorted us out to our back patio and unveiled the fairy village. My sister squealed in delight. I, with Godzilla in hand, proceeded to destroy the tiny village by stomping all around, making horrible monster noises, just like the movie.
Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Image credit: Eric Wiklund.