The two boys were laden with presents as they grinned to each other. Great Aunt Margotwas chatting to stallholders while holding her huge basket. ‘It’s a lovely atmosphere when it’s Christmas,’ she said.
‘We can sit down by that useful bench, and we can have a little unprompted picnic. I assume you’re both hungry?’ ‘Always,’ they chortled. ‘We’ve crispy baguette, some creamy butter and some pâté.’ They munched for a bit.
Then Great Aunt Margot said, ‘that’s enough for now. All we need is a smallish tree and we can hoist it back home.’ And that’s what they did.
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
They had been singing for ages and loudly too, the songs, the lyrics and the melodies were all off key, but none of them cared, since this was a great outing; they hadn’t been all together for such a long time, more than half a year, but time is a strange idea if some of this lot are immortal.
Mr Cushing was driving, as always, in his purring limousine, and The Old One sat next to him; they had both been living in the south of France – very clement and useful too, since they both love going to the Cannes Festival and hang out with the hoi polloi (not).
Francis was sitting in the middle row, he had been reading the newspapers avidly, almost desperately to find anymore news about those jewels which had been stolen from the Louvre; it was only he who wouldn’t sing, while his wife, Joan, and her best friend Scatty, were clapping their hands on the other side and singing their hearts out.
The two gargoyles sat in the back and looked out in the rear of the car, eager to see a particular police car, since Inspector Clouseau could be just behind them.
The red-headed woman had been moving around in that gorgeous long car, talking to all her lovely friends; she was very keen to see what would occur, and she shouted: ‘we must be almost there at that farm.’
And a moment later she grinned: ‘it’s that it… all those big sheds.’
‘We went into a little supermarket, didn’t we?’ ‘We did. Happy memories…’ ‘It was in a foreign place and quaint. You remember?’ ‘Greece?’ ‘Not that time.’ ‘No, you’re right, it was Turkey.’
‘We sat down, since there was a few tables.’ ‘And we drank some very thick and sweet coffee.’
‘Then we had a little look around the shelves…’ ‘… and we bought some postcards and we sat down again and wrote them.’ ‘They even had some stamps.’
‘Then after that we bought a tiny bottle of raki.’ ‘And what else?’ ‘You must remember that?’ ‘Oh, of course – Turkish Delight!’
~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Memoir Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman had been feeling rather pensive as she continued to listen to the two friendly gargoyles, while she rummaged in her big bag.
‘As you know we had enlisted several clever animals for a while, although sadly they have moved on to another case, we believe,’ – ‘not surprising though, since they are jet-setting animals who solve crimes all around the world,’ as the two of them grinned to each other.
‘You know there are still protests around the Louvre,’ said one of the gargoyles, ‘since so many very exquisite jewels had been stolen, and they are still mostly missing, so it’s vital that we stay in touch with Inspector Clouseau, you must know him surely,’ as the two of them looked at her; she affirmed.
‘So what are we going to do now?’ asked the red-headed woman, as she opened her notebook and clicked her retractable pen; while the two gargoyles looked at their phones, and a moment later they both said: ‘ooh, breaking news… look.’
One of the phones pinged, it was Inspector Clouseau who said: ‘it’s a decoy, I’m sure – never mind about those escargots, but those fabulous jewels, they will be hidden in some very strange place – they will reappear, mark my words.’
She’d looked in the bedroom and bathroom. She’d looked in the kitchen and dining room, but no. She was almost positive she had left them in the living room since she’d been reading. She sat down by her coffee table.
She had a thought.
Maybe those glasses had fallen under the couch. She knelt down and poked around, just as her cat appeared. They were at the same level. The cat playfully tapped one paw at her cheek. Suddenly, those glasses dropped from her head.
Aha, clever cat! Those glasses had been there all the time.
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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Anecdote Word Count: 100
Thered-headed woman was tired, since it had been a long day, and it was very late now, she hadn’t seen her friendly two gargoyles, which was rather sad, but as she was about to turn in, she saw them.
She motioned a hand from her little balcony as the two gargoyles circled and landed; she thought how graceful they were – always on the move, and very mobile considering what they were, although only very privileged people would see one moving, never mind two.
Both of them grinned, then one of them said, ‘let’s get a photo quickly, all of us, say cheese,’ – and a moment later they all crowded together on that rather new smartphone, ‘that’s nice, and don’t forget some suitable hashtags.’
‘So did you? I mean that daring heist in the Louvre,’ asked the red-headed woman to the two of them; – they both grimaced and said at the same time, ‘if only… imagine that, but no, not us.’
‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t have done a photo just now, know of course not, you would be hiding, wouldn’t you,’ – ‘correct,’ said one of them, and continued, ‘but there might be a reward, and that would be good, wouldn’t it, don’t we think?’
‘We have also had a few good thoughts about that,’ said the two gargoyles, ‘you see, we have been trailing several leads, including that Inspector Clouseau, and also a couple of clever animals – a cat and a panda; what do you think about that?’
At last, something worked, she grinned, I’m so happy!
She had looked out very early, just as the sun poked up. She could see it was fine, as she showered and dressed quickly. She brewed her coffee, as she continued to smile; she wondered what this particular one had managed to cling on to life, since so many hadn’t. Dreadful really, as she mused while supping her coffee.
It was very windy, as usual, as she stepped out into her kind of garden. There it is, as she looked up. My first pretty rockery with some real living little flowers!
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: HistoricalFiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman had been in various places in France, enjoying the cafes and vineyards, and also managed to get a bit of money on the side, since she had to earn a living in some way or another – a hustle here and a hustle there, but at least her lovely ruby red ring had been fixed.
She was so happy to draw up in her little red car to look up to see her attic apartment in Paris; she parked her car several streets away and hurried to buy some things.
She went to the nearest small supermarket, threaded her way to the counter where she would find a few things to keep her going – a baguette and a squishy cheese and a carton of fava beans which she would cook with some butter and garlic, very tasty.
She walked up to the top floor, unlocking her door, dumped her big bag on the table, then opened her double French doors, how lovely to be home; she had idly thought about the two gargoyles since she always enjoyed their company.
She had been perusing on her smartphone to see what had been going on over those last few months and, of course, the main story had grabbed her the most had been the Louvre Museum in that amazing dare-devil heist and all those gorgeous jewellery stolen, almost to order, she’d thought; could it have been the two gargoyles who had a hand in that heist?
Was it just a story? I think not. It was real. Very real. But perhaps just use a beautiful dream? That would work better.
She would walk into the lounge. She would open the double doors into the garden, and then to the still warm pool. Such a treat! She would sit on the wall, looking at the gorgeous sunset, between the dark waters and the vivid sky. She would remove a pretty feather to touch it and smooth it. Then she would walk back again. Closing the double doors.
She would lay down to sleep again. Sleep on… forever.
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: HistoricalFiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) was in her tiny apartment, she’d finally finished her crossword in her folded broadsheet newspaper, noticing that she had ink on both hands.
She mused as she wandered into her kitchen, while she cleaned her hands, and then brewed some more coffee; she had many diverse tastes and interests, in fact, she always had, although her favourite hobbies were her writing and reading.
A few minutes later she brought her coffee into the living room, putting it on the coffee table where she picked up her latest book – The Weight of Snow and Regret by Elizabeth Gauffreau.*
She held the book unopened for a moment: the front cover was beautiful, like a picture of snow – the perfect time to read in the winter, the book itself was quite heavy since there are many wonderful words, so she opened the book, removing her bookmark – she’d had this for years, a little cheshire cat in metal, she put it down – now it was time to read.
La Raconteuse was engrossed in her book apart from playing the CD by Lightnin’ Hopkins, since he was in that book; she continued to read for more than an hour, but now she was hungry.
It was almost lunch-time as she ventured out into the wintry day, it looked like it would snow soon, as she dodged the cars and taxis as she walked across the streets; at least it’ll be warm in the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, as she quickened her step.
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