Friday Fictioneers is a group of writers who write 100-word stories prompted by a photograph posted each week on Rochelle’s site
You can read all the other stories – free! – by following the link.
Here is this week's photo - and my story.
Everything revolves around those bloody sheep – even Colin’s birth took second place to Brian’s prize ewe’s twins, and I ended up bottle-feeding Colin with one hand and a lamb with the other.
Shearing time means cooking for an army of sheep-shit-covered helpers, and after thirty years I’ve had it up to here.
So I've left Brian a note, planning to be well gone before he gets home, but I get stuck behind this tanker. I'm halfway past it when the flock appears, Brian walking at his usual funereal pace, and I can see his lips forming the words – “Going out, Lambkin?”