 |
 |
 |
| |
Warning Sign
She was sprawled on the sofa. Recovery position.
‘It’s me heart again. It’s going, Stevie. I’m sure it’s going.’
‘Well if it doesn’t go before the kettle’s boiled, can you bring us a brew out?’
He was digging. Deep, those patio foundations.
She must have looked peaky, though, cos that night he cooked her supper.
He’d never done that before.
Want to comment on this Flash Fiction?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Flash Fiction and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
|
|
Was he intending to bury her under that patio, once she'd conked out?
Or is it just me looking for darker themes? Did he put ground glass in her supper? or was she just faking it all along. Will she perform a last minute switcheroony with the poisoned tea thus condeming her DIY obseesed other half to a slow painful death and retire to Spain on the insurance?
So many questions |
 |
Comment by: karjon - 2008-05-01 05:35
|
|
Excellent, Ada - no crits.
Cheers
Karen |
 |
Comment by: jgilgun - 2008-04-30 16:39
|
|
| I liked it. Use of language sparkles. |
|
|
Well done, Ada. Realistic dialogue (we all talks like that in me house, our chuck).
If it was the first time he'd ever cooked her supper, then she might be in a far worse predicament than we at first thought.
You've given us humour and sadness in your words and we're left worrying how serious it may be.
60 words to my count - no other crits, Ada.
Take care - Grae:) |
 |
Comment by: vlclasby Online- 2008-04-29 10:50
|
|
| Wonderful wee story, Ada. Sweet and sad, all together. Much enjoyed it. |
| 1 2 Next |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
