Here we are again, its not Friday and its not fiction; well, maybe a little bit, this moody shot conjures up images of seedy goings on, of which the present state of politics Globally has plenty, lets see what I can come up, with thanks to Roger Bultot for the shot and Rochelle for putting up with this weekly tsunami of tasty all sorts.
On My Marks…
Get Set…
GO!!!
The Incarcerator had left, been gone for many darks and lights. Apart from a wrinkled form, who came in to offer them a drink, nothing moved.
Outside the air was still and a shrill repetitive baying bounced down the alley, sliding into the thick humidity.
Might be called “Dog”…
There was a certain element of Stockholm Syndrome; true. Fresh water every few days, even some Baby-Bio if they were fortunate.
Not unhappy; but much more out there, especially the drippy-drip-drip from the above
Their roots started to shift and untangle from their Terra-Cotta Cells. It was time to go…
There we are, 100 words on the secret life of plants, from their viewpoint, probably a load of cobblers, but off the top of my head before bed. Sometimes it works, others not. Enjoy.
The Count Of North Clifton 
Very atmospheric
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There’s a nasty surprise waiting for their designated carer when they arrive with more water!
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Quirky story – for off the top of your head.
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Not a happy future to look forward to, but maybe it’s all that awaits.
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Dear Shrawley,
Now you have me wondering what my houseplants are thinking. Thank you for that. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
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i don’t blame them. knowing the set up, it was time to get out of there for sure.
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Truly brilliant writing, Shrawl, especially enjoyed when I got to the twist.
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p.s. then had to re-read it with the knowledge. GOOD WRITING.
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Certainly not a ‘load of old cobblers’ I loved it 🙌
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Love the creepiness of this! Well done! Pun intended! LOL
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