Drunk

A couple of items.

First off, I apologize that I don’t yet have a running title for my Friday Fictioneers submissions, similar to those used for both my 100 Word Song and Master Class entries. It’s not that I think any less of this worthy endeavor, I just can’t seem to find one that’ll stick yet.

Secondly, when participating in these picture prompts, I typically enlarge the image and scour its contents to find my inspiration. This week was no exception, but as the damned-able word limit (coming in at 115 for a second week in a row) made it almost impossible to both tell the story and divulge who the narrator was, I’ve included instead, a small screen grab of this week’s “inspiration point.”

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Copyright-Ted Strutz

Copyright-Ted Strutz

They’re so stupid, that lot.

Day after day they come in walking, and leave crawling. Every night they sit there and lament. Lament over any number of things. How their car isn’t “sexy” enough, how their house isn’t “impressive” enough, what a pain it is to keep oneself in shape. They grumble about having too little of this, and far too much of that.

All the while, their words continue to slur, their eyes glaze, and they slowly become more a part of my world than their own.

I remain stoic, dour even. Gazing upon them while they bellyache about the very thing I will never have, freedom.

They really are stupid, that lot.

•••

Picture 1

Turn to stone

Cut, cut, snip, snip.

I do apologize Friday Fictioneers, but even after many excursions into word removal operations, I was still unable to obtain the solid 100 word count I usually aim for, without losing the entire flow of this week’s story.

Yes, assuming that there is any flow to this week’s story in the first…

Hope you enjoy =)

Copyright -Kent Bonham

Copyright -Kent Bonham

I’ll never make it up there, daddy.

Yes you will.

It’s too high.

Not too high dear. Besides, you’ve those outcroppings to pull upon.

It’s scary tall.

But only until you reach the top. Then it’s open, fresh.

Like our old place?

Like our old place.

Daddy, can’t we go back there?

No dear, they tore it down.

I liked it.

Me too, but life doesn’t always give what we like. You’ll grow to enjoy here too.

Will I be able to play here?

Not once we reach the top, you know that.

Then we just sit and watch?

Yes, when we reach the top, we sit and watch. Like all good gargoyles do, dear.

•••