“Mummy, don’t let him take it off! Or I’m never coming out from under here!”
“Silly! Daddy’s not going to hurt you!”
“But you said he was, he was, inf- infenctious!”
“Infectious, darling. Do you know what that even means?”
“I know it’s bad. You told him not to breathe on us.”
“That’ll teach you to listen to other people’s conversations, big ears! Daddy has chickenpox. It’s horrid and itchy and if you catch it and scratch it it’ll leave scars. The diving helmet is just our little joke.”
“S’not funny! You didn’t tell me it was a joke. I hate you!”
Gosh, this was a tough one, but isn’t that half the fun? Thank you to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers this week once more, and for the challenge of writing a 100 word story in response to the photo prompt.
Do head on over to her blog, enjoy all the reading, and why not take part? Click on the blue froggy to read the entries!
“Your grandfather was a gajo, he made the place as much like a vardo for your grandmother as possible, but without having to move. He was a homebody.”
I stared at Mother, at the curious little stone house, the wheel seeming to prop it up on a hidden axle.
“Was she happy?”
“She was his mollisher. She chose to marry out!”
I heard the sneer in her voice, the sprinkle of Romani for her, not me.
I looked up at the mountain tops, the splendid isolation. Such freedom, yet such a prison. Nowhere to go for granny.
Better late than never for this week’s Friday Fictioneers – thank you Rochelle for the weekly inspiration!
I thought this little old house looked a bit like a caravan, with a wheel stuck in the ground, hence I went down the Romani route this week.
mulani – ghost
vardo – Romani wagon
gajo – an adult male who isn’t Romani
mollisher – woman, wife
Please do head on over to this week’s prompt and see what other writers have created!
There is no water left here.
Well, that’s not strictly true. There is the sea, but of course, it’s not drinkable.
The bottom of the reservoir is still shining with watery residue, but it’s more silt than anything else. A desperate few are laying rags down, hoping to soak up the final puddle, to squeeze a few cloudy drops into mugs for later.
Others are still hunting for fruit of any kind, hoping to find The One that is still succulent after all this time. But the entire world is brown.
Even the sea. Even the sea.
It’s been a very long time, and I’m trying to get back in the swing of things. What better way than to dive into the ocean of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely Rochelle? Do give her weekly fun a try – be inspired by the image she posts eery week to write 100 (ish) words on whatever comes to mind.
As for me, I will take a good nosey around at the other entries over the next few days – I’m so looking forward to it!