Back in the land of stable internet and my own computer, it’s amazing the difference it makes. I’ll be going back and updating some recent posts with pictures etc when I have chance, but for now here’s my latest Friday Fiction piece. As ever, it’s inspired by Madison Woods’ picture prompt, and you can find lots of other great stories linked on her page. Critique is welcome – this was a little rushed for me today, so I’m intrigued to hear how well (or not) you think it worked.
“There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,” Dad sang as Chantal wiggled the tap again.
“Could you possibly do something more useful than singing?”
“Like fix it?” he asked, adding “Dear Henry,” under his breath.
She tried to smile. Singing was better than the gloom he’d been in since Mum left. But he looked manic: seven-week beard, shirt Mum hated. Perhaps that’s why she left: his dress-sense.
Or perhaps it was this infernal tap: dripping at all hours like the incessant tick of time. Maybe if she fixed the tap, or changed his clothes, Mum’d come back.