Posted in Flash Fiction, Fractured Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes

A Right Mess

“What have you got for me Jenkins?”

“A body sir. Splattered all over the courtyard. A right mess. Appears he fell from that wall over there.”

“Body got a name?”

“Dumpty, sir. A Mr. Humpty Dumpty. Seems he often sat up there. Liked watching the soldiers.”

“Anything else?”

“First indications are it wasn’t an accident, sir. Doc says he’s been shot. We’ll know more when the autopsy report comes through. There’s also a witness who says he saw a young girl walking away from the scene.”

“Description?”

“He couldn’t see her face, sir but says she was wearing a long red cloak with a hood.”

On the other side of the city Red sat at the bar in the hotel lounge sipping a gin and tonic. She smiled as she thought about the day’s events.  As planned, it had taken just the single shot. Mr. Humpty Dumpty was dead long before his fragile body hit the ground.

MikeJackson©2017

Posted in Fractured Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes

The Three Bears

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

OK, I admit I was at the house. I was just passing and saw the door open  and popped in. And yes I ate the porridge and may have accidentally broken one of their lousy chairs. Sure they were a bit angry when they came back and caught me napping in the kids bed, and we may have exchanged a few heated words, but you’ve got to believe me Inspector, when I left that place they were all very much alive. I’m telling you, as God is my witness, I know nothing about any poisoned pizza and three dead bears.

MikeJackson©2017

A 100 word story for this week’s prompt at Friday Fictioneers.

Posted in Fractured Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

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The sign in the flower tent had her name on it. There it was as clear as day, ‘Ms M.Mary – Gold Award – Best In Show’ and underneath it one of the judges had scribbled, “Just like a row of pretty maids.”

She should have felt elated but she didn’t, on the contrary, she felt extremely nervous. She looked around to see if there was any way out of this nightmare but, just as she was making a dash for the exit, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Mary! Mary Mary. Congratulations. I didn’t realize what a talented horticulturist you were.”

Mary looked behind her. To her horror she saw Jane Dobson, Chairwoman of the Women’s Institute, local snob and village busybody, bearing down on her.

“I was just talking to some of the ladies on the committee,” said Jane, “I was saying, we must get young Mary Mary to come to our next meeting and tell us the secrets of her hollyhocks.”

Mary felt quite faint. This was her worst nightmare. How on earth could she talk about something that she knew nothing about? They weren’t her hollyhocks. She had so wanted to enter this year’s village flower show but everything she’d tried to grow had just withered and died.

She realized now that it had been a silly  idea to go out to the local B&Q last week and buy some beautiful looking hollyhocks to enter in the show. She never dreamt that they would win.

“You’re certainly a dark horse,” prattled Jane Dobson, “I thought you didn’t like gardening. Why only the other day I’m sure I overheard you telling the Vicar that you couldn’t grow anything. My but you are a contrary one Mary. Whenever I’ve been past your garden it just seems to be full of shells, I’ve never seen any flowers.”

“Well, yes, but no, you see ………” stammered Mary.

“That’s it!” interrupted Jane Dobson, “That’s what we shall call your talk – ‘Mary Mary Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?’ – splendid, we look forward to hearing what you’ve got to say. Will a week on Wednesday be OK?”

MikeJackson©2017