bloody gypsies are back in the bottom field,’ Frank growled, ‘they’ll be the
death of me!’
that it was true. Since mum died she’d been forced into taking her place, in
the kitchen and upstairs, but with the nearest town thirty miles away
she was trapped – until now. She’d seen the gypsies earlier and noticed the
appreciative gleam in one young man’s dark eyes.
She poured Frank’s
whiskey liberally that night and crept out after he’d gone to sleep.
The cows complaining
they hadn’t been milked woke Frank next morning, by which time Bessie was long
Another prompt, another Friday Fictioneers 100 word story. Follow the link from https://rochellewisoff.com/ to read dozens of other stories prompted by Bill Reynolds' image.