To remind
you of the rules of this little hop (which couldn’t really be simpler), here’s
a little reminder:
1) Use the photo(s) and
prompt to write a story; all elements of the prompt must be a feature in
the brief story you create.
2) Stay with the 500-word
limit.
3) Craft and link your post
by the following Tuesday.
4) When you have finished
your post, link up your story using the inLinkz frog at the bottom of the
prompt.
5) We were going to tell you to not take this too seriously, but
reconsidered it because we know full well that asking writers to write
something means that they will take it seriously. So, take it seriously,
but don’t fret/panic/pass out/hyperventilate/lose sleep/run in fear over
it.
This week
we have two pictures as our prompt:
And don’t
forget to link up here when you’re done!
HERE IS MY STORY:
Mothering Sunday
She slammed the fridge door rattling the
goods inside. How dare he do this to
her? He knew how important this
celebration was to her. He had the gall
to say it was her fault. Ben always tried
to make her feel guilty. He always made out she was to blame. Well she wasn't going to take it anymore.
She grabbed her coat and bag, checked her
keys and phone were in her pocket and flounced out of the house. Lottie turned left and followed the path to
the junction, she stopped for a moment, the rush and noise of the traffic wasn’t
doing anything to ease her frustration.
She strode out purposefully the image of that stupid turkey still in her
mind. She’d planned all the trimmings to
go with it and now it would all be for nothing.
Stomping along the footpath she was deep in
thought as she arrived at the riverside walk, pausing for breath she stopped
and looked across the vista at the still water.
Lottie gazed at the
reflections of the bare branches shining in the gentle ripples of the river.
A lone man walked ahead of her. His stance was familiar. She couldn’t believe Ben was there as
well. Not only had he accused her of all
sorts of unfair things he was now walking in her favourite place.
Lottie really had had enough of this
guy. She fingered her mobile phone in
her pocket as it vibrated against her hand.
A quick glance showed the caller’s identity. She looked at Ben’s back in the distance and
declined to answer. Lottie waited
patiently, watching covertly, wondering what on earth he was up to.
Ben put the phone back in his jacket. Lottie wasn't picking up his call. So she was sulking. That was about par for the course. He didn't know what else he could do. Jobs were so scarce these days that when his
boss asked him to work on Mothering Sunday there was no way he could have
refused.
Lottie was just being unreasonable, totally
unreasonable. He couldn’t get her to see
that by keeping his job he was providing for her and the family. He paid the mortgage and the bills and gave
her a generous amount for housekeeping.
There was also enough to keep her in manicures, hair appointments,
beauty treatments and everything else she did.
What about those lunches she went on with her girlfriends?
She didn't work. That book she says she is writing is only a
pipe dream, if she is writing at all. She is just lazy. He would have to make her see he was only
doing it for them. He didn't want to
work this hard. He would love to stay
home all day.
Ben gazed at the
reflections of the bare branches shining in the gentle ripples of the river.
Word count: 496
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