One of the terms often used to talk of the dead is ‘loved ones’. It made me think of this 100-word story.
We stood huddled in a small group and watched as the rain danced on the coffin lid.
Despite the lousy weather, we’d all come to make sure you were really dead.
Anthony, eyes lowered, was remembering the daily beatings you had given him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders as memories of your nightly visits to my room forced their way back into my mind.
According to our old neighbour, you illness had given you a lot of pain over the last six months. Something I was heartened to hear.
We’re so glad you’re no longer with us Dad.
Do we really know what happens to our old technology? Will your old mobile ever die? This 100-word story came to me as I thought of the technological gap between the young and the old.
Gran had been a miserable old lady and, if Jimmy was honest, he was glad she was dead.
She’d lived at their house for the last year and had been on his back the whole time. If she wasn’t complaining about his music, she’d be criticising his choice of friends or the way he dressed.
When Mum had made him go the undertaker for one last look at Gran he’d slipped his old mobile into her coffin for a laugh. He knew how much she’d hated them.
Now, to his dismay, he got text messages from her every day.
Have you ever wondered at the phrases that we bandy about. I once heard someone talking about being ‘starved of love’. It inspired me to write this 100-word tale.
The judge said my wickedness was due to me being starved of love as a child. I wonder what he meant – ‘starved of love’?
The phrase conjured up strange images in my head. Children being force-fed dollops of specially prepared meals of love. Did this involve a plate of cuddles and kisses for breakfast, with cups of kind words of encouragement for a mid-morning snack? Or maybe a table laden with tender hand-holding for lunch and lots of smiles for tea?
As they take me down I have my doubts that love is on the menu in prison.
“Dad, why are all the people out there dressed in shorts and tee-shirts? You made us put our wellies and kagools on. You said it was going to rain.”
Dad, who was up front driving the bright yellow amphibious bus, didn’t answer.
Marjory, his wife, who was sat next to him, turned around in her seat and said, “Jeremy dear, don’t worry your father while he’s concentrating on getting us through this traffic. Go and make sure your sister has got her lifejacket on and then check none of the windows are open. When you’ve done that you could start to feed the animals, there’s a darling.”
Marjory turned back in her seat and stared out of the front window at the bright sun ahead of them. She looked across at her husband, “Looks like this fine spell is set to continue dear. If it gets any warmer we may have to open a window or two. Those animals are beginning to pong a bit.”
Noah frowned. According to his calculations, the rains and flooding should’ve have started by now.
A story for this week’s photo prompt at Sunday Photo Fiction.