Month: November 2015

Newquay 30/7/2013


 © Sandra Crook

On the beach no one but me wore a windcheater. Ava, wearing her black swim suit, ran towards the water, eager to throw her self in the waves. I lay my self down, close to the cliff for lee. It was as if the Atlantic wind blew right through me and the only way to catch the warmth of the sun was to lie flat. When we got back to the house we found Mike with his feet in a tub of water. He had been stung by a weever fish and whilst noticing the blue and red swelling, Jim declared that he would never ever again swim in the Atlantic ocean.




The boy and the harmonica

  Photo prompt C.E. Ayr

This is my contribution to this week’s  Friday Fictioneers. /Helene

The little boy sits in his stroller, blond hair sticking out from under his grandfather’s checkered cap. He is happy and safe as he plays the harmonica, mommy and daddy right behind him. They are busy talking. At the busstop he bends over trying to reach out for a shoe stuck in the grate. Before his parents have time to react, the harmonica dissapears between the grids, leaving a barely audible clonk as it hits the bottom.