Saturday, 9 July 2016

It was a hot day. He was in his bed, thinking of his childhood and of his home which was near a beautiful lake. He had become addicted to daydreaming, knowing well that it was a wasteful enterprise.
Someone knocked at the door.
Reluctantly he went out. There was no one out there. But then he saw a woman carelessly walking right through his plants.  He felt cross at her. He was about to shout when he felt a bruise on his arm. He was unnerved. He could not recall when and how had he hurt his arm.
Lady,’ he shouted ignoring the pain.
She did not respond. She sat on the ground and began playing with a stalk of a flower.
‘Mother? Can’t be?’
His dog appeared from nowhere and began to lick the wound on his arm. Something was not in order, it was his grandpa’s dog and it had vanished after his grandpa’s death. It was friendly only with the old man. In fact the dog would even let him ride on its back, if the grandpa so wanted. He would ride from end to end of the room, one little hand held firmly by the grandpa.
‘Grandpa, is that you out there?’ he asked.
Somebody jolted him, ‘The shift starts in one hour; you should leave immediately. You don’t want to miss today’s wages.’
He looked at his wife and then at his arm; he saw the bruise and smiled wistfully.
Word prompts- cross, ground, plants, only, through,  right, end, lick, ride, order, stalk, lady, addicted, wasteful, bruise.

Word count 245