AnElephantCant climb up a ladder
To clean the chandeliers
He prefers to do without light
Than to scale a great height
AnElephantCant really handle fear
This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some dazzlingly dramatic denouements in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s dimly dull discourse.
We laze in the rolling waves of the Mediterranean, far out from the secluded beach.
He indicates a magnificent villa high on the cliff.
When you are rich and famous, he says, you can buy that and let me have one room and a small corner of the terrasse.
I laugh, tell him he will always be with me.
He shakes his head.
All I ask is a space to write a few stories about throwing you onto the rocks far below, he smiles.
He is so funny!
Time passes, my art is a commercial sensation.
Children’s books, cards, t-shirts, mugs, anything you can put an image on, there you find Little House.
I now have a villa, even grander than the one we saw that day from the bay.
I have chandeliers in every room, including the bathrooms.
But I don’t have him.
We drifted apart when the money started pouring in.
I was travelling, promoting, and I left him behind.
As I watch the sunset over the calanque, here he is, on my terrasse.
My heart leaps, I have forgotten how much I cared.
A corner was all I asked for, he smiles sadly, but I wrote the stories anyway.
Isn’t it strange how life imitates art?