SPADE

 

SPADE

I left her taking her muddy trainers off while I put the allotment tools in the car, dropping my guard for one minute, but it was enough.

She screamed as he bundled her into his van. By the time I’d got my car started they’d vanished. But she’d told me about the hut on the moor – and what he’d done there.

I sped through back roads, hid my car, and when he reached into the van to drag her out I hit him with the spade. Hard.

The hut’s just a heap of charred embers now. So is he.

I bought a new spade.

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Any mother would do the same, wouldn't she? Thanks to Ronda del Boccio for this week's image. To read other interpretations of the prompt, follow the frog link from https://rochellewisoff.com/

While I have your attention, please take a look at my latest publication - a 'slim volume of verse', as we poets say! In other words, a small book of poems, selected from a lot more written over a loooong lifetime.

FOOTPRINTS: Amazon.co.uk: Young, Liz: 9798328843089: Books