AnElephantCant take the high road this Christmas
He won’t be in Scotland afore ye
He stays on the Med
But gets out of his bed
To make up this rhyme and write a wee story
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 terrific travelling tales in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s potholed party piece.
The High Road
The traffic seems to have cleared suddenly.
I am making good time but, strangely, do not recognise this part of the motorway.
It is so long since I have been home, maybe they have built this great flyover since I last visited.
Hard to believe, but it is almost a year since I saw her and the two little ones.
But we talk often, I know they are excited, and waiting for their Christmas presents.
But now, abruptly, I find I can hardly picture her face.
I realise that I have forgotten the names of my children.
I do not know the address, or even the town, I am heading for.
In fact, I can remember nothing.
Nothing except that fuel tanker crashing through the central barrier towards me.