AnElephantCant write a rhyme this week
He just does not have even a minute
He is on a trip
By plane not by ship
He’s from Scotland and he is briefly back in it
Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Hosted by the magnificent Rochelle, this is a gathering of writers from around the globe, a melange of cultures, ages, genders and ideas.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
He does not look back over his shoulder, although he knows the past is close behind him.
He does not understand.
So many years, so many towns.
He has travelled so far and yet gone nowhere.
What rankles most is that he is innocent of the charges.
Although he admits to being guilty of so much more.
The street is dark, the feeble lights flickering futilely.
The soft wind blows him into a lit doorway.
The bar is almost empty.
Then he hears the soft moan of a blues saxophone and knows that his time has run out.