AnElephantCant forget his ancestors
Although he knows this is just a Woolly Mammoth’s Ice Age dream
He likes to dunk
His curly trunk
Into a big glass of milk and blow bubbles to make his own ice cream
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 fabulous but freezing fables in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s melted mishap.
I used to love going to the park with my little grandson.
We would play on the swings, feed the squirrels, catch tadpoles in the duck pond.
But the highlight of our day was always the ice cream.
This was our special treat, because neither his mum nor his dad were particularly fond of it.
So we would get cones, usually, or sometimes tubs, and sit on the grass and watch folk playing tennis, or cricket, or football.
And tell each other stories, and laugh a lot.
They were great days.
But, of course, he grew up all too quickly, and teenagers have little time for boring old grandpas.
I got lonely then.
I missed the good times.
And memories fade so fast.
So I try to recreate them.
I find that lots of children like ice cream.
The problem is that they want to leave after they finish eating.
And I like to take them home with me.