Friday Fictioneers – Nothing to Declare

Hands up, this isn’t my best. It was completed on my 30 minute lunch break. I was partly reminiscing about school, my partner in crime during the school days (who played the cello) and one of my favourite Bond moments. So I apologise to those who don’t get the vague reference, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

If you want to play along, head over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

2 Double bass in a locker

Copyright Roger Cohen

Nothing to Declare

“Which one?”

“The lighter one”

“Do you think they would notice it missing?”

“Nah, not if we’re quick”

Beth stood on the tips of her toes and peered out of the tiny window. “Snow is looking pretty thick at the moment, perfect conditions”

“You keep a watch whilst I get the case”

Jess dashed into the adjoining cupboard and fought through the various instruments to drag out the cello case. It was nearly the size of her.

“Psst” she heard from Beth “Mrs Newel is coming, get out of there”

Hearing her teacher’s heels walk down the hallway, Jess quickly put the case back and joined Beth back by the cellos.

“We’ll try again tomorrow” whispered Beth “I bet Bond never had this much trouble”

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – Bottled Explosions

Over a month since I have been on here and even longer since I have taken part in Friday Fictioneers. Well, it’s a new year and that means renewed goals and resolutions. Writing is at the top of my list once again and there is no better place to start than this weekly challenge.

Hop over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields if you wish to take part. Thank you for Lora Mitchell for the image.

Bottled Explosions

Lora Mitchell

copyright Lora Mitchell

Jennifer stared down into the plastic champagne flute and observed its glistening base.

“It’s empty” she intended to say but instead it came out as “Itssssay eamptee”

“Too many bubbles” Her husband gently took the flute from her grasp and placed it on the grass where they sat.

“Mark, it’s not eavin mignight”

“I have some orange juice, you’ve guzzled all the champagne”

Mark wrapped his arms around his wife, quietly amused at her inebriation. Easing into his embrace, Jennifer watched the fireworks whistle and shriek before casting an explosion of pink and purple across the sky.

“Wow, soooo maynaay of them” Jennifer murmured, captured by the moment.

Mark desperately wanted to be part of his wife’s enhanced reality instead of watching a solitary Catherine wheel struggle to entertain the dwindling crowd.

“Next year, you’re driving”