AnElephantCant cool down his trunk
He confesses he is somewhat flustered
Mummy’s home-made apple pie
Brings a tear to his eye
When he smothers it in what he thinks is custard
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the doyenne of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the standard I aspire to.
The idea here is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture below.
The tension is palpable.
The streets are almost empty.
A mother hurries her child home from the doctor’s surgery.
An old man chews on the end of his baguette, nervously stumbles into a doorway.
No one wants to be outside when it starts.
Men in dark clothes group at either end of the street.
We surround our champion, make sure he is prepared for this clash.
Eyes flicker to the dreaded opponent, younger and quicker.
I look at Henry, read the doubt in his face.
And the fear.
I know it is the end.
Real Tennis is an unforgiving game.