Friday Fictioneers: Watching.

Slightly late this week, i’ve driven to Kent and will be spending the weekend here amongst the wildlife and my friend J, so thanks to Rochelle for keeping on keeping on and thanks to Rochelle for the picture. I think its something we can all relate to.

Without further ado, 

On My Marks…

Get Set…


The Flowers and Balloon was the name of that pub and said it all.

Today was the day that Fiona returned from the Sanitarium, her guts flushed through with insipid sugar free hospital grade cordial and her diet a cocktail of over cooked vegetables, Broccoli indistinguishable from Cauliflower.

Thinner, and not at death’s door as she was a few weeks ago.

She was wheeled in, past the dining table and turned around to face the flowers, the mirror on the wall reflecting her life going forward as her wide mouthed, square eyed, green haired overlord looked on.

Right, 100 words written on the picture with a beginning a middle and an end, and all done in no more than 10 minutes, I couldn’t stop seeing a robot in the mirror.


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