Pitter patter raindrops, as I’m looking outside, while that pretty bench continued to drip, drip.
I’m tempted to go out, since it was not cold, in fact, it was rather warm, so why not do so?
I grabbed my umbrella, and then ran outside, I danced across that pretty bench and what fun I had.
~~~
Image credit: Richard Stachmann @Unsplash
This image showsthe view of a white wooden bench through a fog stained window. There are trees and green grass behind the bench. There is evidence of rain!
I’ve always liked graves. Admittedly I’d only go in the daytime. But I’d be there from morning to evening, since I was a writer and it was such a peaceful place.
I’d write small stories, but they would be fun (mostly), while using my notebook and a couple of pencils. Nothing fancy like a laptop – not invented then.
But then I found that the darkness was even better. I’d fallen asleep and something had changed. After that it seemed that something else was required. But never mind about that.
Just have a look – my little fangs are so pretty!
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Thanks to Rochelle for hostingFriday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) grinned a huge grin, as she looked up to see the Gatekeeper who had just arrived at the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro; several other people looked as well, as he stopped at the second step down, and surveyed the room.
La Raconteuse looked the other way for a moment, as the Bartender gave a nod and a wink on the other side of the bar to the Gatekeeper: destiny was back, and the red-headed writer was more than pleased about that.
She hopped down from the stool as she turned around to see the Gatekeeper as he began to walk along the long bar – ‘gosh, you’re even smaller than I remember,’ he said – while she grinned – ‘just flat shoes for me now.’
Despite so many things had changed – and of course it had been several years from the start, but at least the main Proprietors were still in the heart of the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, although there were more exotic, devious and more besides too, who hang out there now, but the red-headed writer wasn’t worried.
The tall, thin man turned from the small group in the corner, as he strode to meet the Gatekeeper in the middle of the bar, right by the Bartender; in less than a minute, she’d served the finest malt whisky and two chunky glasses plus some ice – ‘let’s go through to the Manager’s office.’
La Raconteuse glanced out to see how dismal the weather was, as she sat down into her usual booth.
she’s a beautiful girl she’s in her prime and now she has two youngsters they are bold and fun, and running around but she keeps one eye on the boisterous wee boys and the other in the distance but all is fine just now
~~~
Image credit: Johan Siggesson @Unsplash
This image showsa lioness with two cubs standing in long grasses. The lioness is looking to her left with narrowed eyes.
Earlier she had been far too busy to do anything but eat and drink, since she’d had a very late breakfast (or brunch); she had been umming and arring about the menu for ages, as Tom was on leave, and Mimi was not here either. In the end she plumped for a couple of small pancakes with bacon and syrup (very proper for those American people, as she grinned), and in the meantime she munched some toast with butter and jam, or was it marmalade she wondered for a moment, but anyway everything was delicious, and she drank two coffees as well.
She went back to her usual booth where she opened her laptop, she was so happy that it had been fixed by this clever guy, since it took more than three days to work properly again. Without her laptop she had to write things down using paper and pen or pencil, and now she had so many notes and scribbles in her little notebook – what a mess! – but at least now she could continue to write on that laptop.
She had been working for more than an hour, but then she walked over to the bar, she smiled and waved to her great friend, the Bartender, while the tall, thin mangestured to the small group in the corner, and now, of course, she would be earwigging again.
She looked at the cover, and then picked it up, she wondered who had written it since there was no signature. The back cover was also blank, so time to open that book.
And what did she find? Actually… nothing. It’s her to write it you see.
~~~
Image credit: Eveling Salazar @Unsplash
This image showsa book with a title – Free forever printed on its cover. The image in monochrome where the book is greyish white and the background is dark.
‘Okay, the final race for the Tour de France this year, it has been excellent so far, don’t you think?’ smiled Francis, as he inverted the first bottle of champagne, while Joan and Scatty sip some, as they all watched the large television.
‘It’s such a wonderful place in the heart of Paris, all those lovely buildings and statues, meanwhile the cyclists will cycle around the Champs-Elysees (four times as usual), but this time it will be longer since it’s going up to the top of the Butte Montmartre,’ said Francis.
‘Gosh, right by us,’ said Scatty, ‘you know, I’m going to go out there, just now; I can get a little patch of grass near the Basilica of the Sacre-Coeur, and that will be perfect,’ as she grabbed her coat, then she reversed for a moment to say, ‘I will have a great position there, I’m sure!’
‘Well, I think this is much cosier, and there’s only the two of us,’ said Joan – ‘yes, I think so too,’ said Francis, as he put his arm over her shoulder.
‘Ah ha, here it is,’ said Joan, ‘such a beautiful sculpture for the horse, and it looks very like me where I’m sitting proudly up on the Place des Pyramides – oh yes, valour… that was me at the time, wasn’t it,’ as she grinned, – while Francis gave her a big kiss.
But what happened to the two gargoyles… and where’s that red-headed woman? – well, we guess it’ll be next time!
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