Where does the damn time go? It seems like I did last weeks FF about 2 days ago.. My life seems to be accelerating at an alarming pace, but thanks to Rochelle for keeping this old wagon rolling, but finally seeing the sun for a time this week seems to help, lets see if it gets my muse going. Thanks to Anne Higa for the photo, I genuinely have no idea what is going on, so lets see what follows:
On My Marks…
Jack and Jill did not get up.
In hospital beds opposite each other, they were lowered into a medically induced coma. Their hair was wild, thin and showing a silver tinge as the decades rolled by.
The Muzak had changed somehow; becoming more tinny, the nurses checking in periodically, changed too, gradually less aware of the story of these two elderly unfortunates, its relevance “Pailing” into inconsequential folklore.
One day Jack got up, and after a few weeks convalescing managed to shuffle to the bathroom unaided, where he slipped and fell into a urinal, blood pooling around his lifeless corpse.
There we are, a tale of Fairy tale woe, inspired by the bucket, and the bucket only. 100 words on the nose. Enjoy.