Word count: 99
For centuries they gathered here, little girls ready to jump into womanhood. Required age was thirteen as they would find themselves married off to some old geezer starting at fourteen, without choice.
None of them were excited at the prospect. They had dreams of another sort to go out and take over the world. Every year, at the Spring Equinox, they gathered, made a fire in the pit, danced feverishly, celebrating what should be and not what will inevitably be.
When dawn showed its first light, they threw their dolls into the well.
Children no more. Dreams put aside.
Friday Fictioneers: 100-word stories
Photo prompt: © Copyright – Rachel Bjerke