AnElephantCant contain himself
It is Friday Fictioneer time again
He must write a short tale
On a very small scale
He makes notes with his best fountain pen
What on earth can he find to say this week
What if he finds that he has writer’s block
That would be a pain
So to clear his poor brain
It makes sense to first go for a walk
The idea is to write a very short story based on a picture prompt (below).
He smiles to himself, although his heart is breaking.
How could that stupid, treacherous fool do that to the woman he loved?
The woman they both loved.
He does not know who tipped off the police, but they are everywhere.
They search the house, the barns, the outbuildings.
They know something is amiss.
The brute just stands there, pretending innocence, radiating grief.
While the third side of the triangle, her sister, dabs at her eyes with a scented handkerchief.
Time for action.
He moves the hosepipe, so that the water pours into the freshly dug ground, washing away the topsoil.