Kate and Robert stared in dismay at the weather-stained house. It wasn’t the luxurious holiday home of the photographs, but the website had promised unlimited wine, so they ventured inside.
The gate clanged shut like prison doors and the interior was gloomy as a dungeon. Light-bulbs flickered, electric points sparked, and the bed was damp. When they couldn’t even open the cellar door they left to find a hotel.
Unseen, the caretaker watched their departure from a cellar window. The absentee owners hadn’t paid her for years – she wasn’t about to share their vintage wine with any putains Anglais.
I had to resort to a dictionary this week, as 16 years of learning and speaking Spanish has buried most of my French! Thank you to ce.ayr for the photograph and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers' Flash Fiction each week on her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
An odd thing I have noticed this week - after at least a year of boasting 103 followers - mainly due, I fear, to the A-Z Challenge which I entered for three years - my numbers have suddenly dropped to 95. Should I take this personally or are people simply indulging in an early Spring Clean?
Whatever the reason, thank you for being one of the remaining few. Please leave a comment to let me know you've visited. And no, I will not be entering the A-Z Challenge this year, but I wish the thousands who do the very best of luck.