ISLAND PICNIC
When Tom
was young his parents used to take him over the reed-bed to picnic in the
summer-house.
“Walk
quietly,” his father would warn, “Don’t wake the troll,” and Tom would tiptoe
across in delighted terror.
Later,
Tom played the troll game with his own children, and even his worldly-wise
grandchildren trod softly over the bridge.
One
afternoon, at an island picnic, Tom collapsed. His sons raced homewards
carrying him, their footsteps loud on the bridge, and they were halfway across
when a massive arm reached up and snatched the body.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Firstly I am proud to tell you that I have had a poem accepted for World Poetry Day, which you can read under the 'Melting Pot' tab on Liz Brownlee's blog at: https://messagepoemstotheplanet.wordpress.com/
Secondly I would like to say 'Welcome' to another two followers who have appeared out of the blue - thank you for your interest in my blog!
Secondly I would like to say 'Welcome' to another two followers who have appeared out of the blue - thank you for your interest in my blog!
And thirdly, this week's photo was taken by Adam Ickes. I remember the photo, so presumably I have written a story about it before, but I can't remember when or what, so here's a new one! The prompt was posted for Friday Fictioneers on Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ To read other stories, follow the Blue Frog trail from there.
