Good afternoon, from a surprisingly sunny, yet chilly, kingdom of Shrawley, ruling seat of Worcestershire and about as far away from the sea as you can get. What a fab day it is to join in with this fine rabble of wordsmiths that is the Friday Fictioneers, once again hosted by the amazing Rochelle. Thanks also to Caeyr for providing the photo which actually makes me want to go there right now, well after I’ve cooked the kids supper.
So I’d best get my thinking cap on, which I have, so…
On My Marks…
Weed had escaped with the help of Bill and Ben from the Flower Zoo or “Garden” as folk in denial called them, and disappeared; no one heard from them for years.
Until Weed was spotted in a tobacco kiosk buying Rizzla papers on El Hierro. Her leaves were tatty and torn, dried and curled at the ends. As she fidgeted and scratched her head, seeds fell to the cobbles.
Bill and Ben had not been seen for months as she shuffled up her steps to her front door, head bowed, she sadly contemplated the flowerpots in her own little Zoo.
Boom!!! 100 words on the nose, and I like this one, my daughter was talking about Shakespeare, its obviously rubbed off, or not!!