James McEwan

My contribution to Friday-Fictioneers this week. Lovely picture from Lisa, thank you to our host Rochelle.

For reasons I cannot work out, I am unable to link to other sites on my posts.

The Family Gallery

‘Anthea,’ I said. I once called her Anne, big mistake! She slapped me.

I had come to collect a painting from her art gallery.

‘Yes!’ Her snappy tone. ‘I’ve wrapped it already.’

I pointed to the hanging baubles. ‘Interesting feature.’

‘It’s a family tradition. A remembrance so to speak.’

I wished I hadn’t asked. ‘Very decorative.’

‘We’ve all got one in our family, usually kept by the Sacred Heart.’

She reached up. ‘This one’s mine.’

‘It was Dad’s idea to create unity after the house fire. 

Mum’s remains are in this large bauble.

Touch this one, Anne’s ashes feel warm.’

Great looking picture of Shellys Cafe, I wonder if they do hot, soft pancakes. Thank you Rochelle for this week’s challenge, and thank you to Lori Wilson for the photo-prompt.

Lost Out West

I gently shook Eileen awake.
Why have we stopped?

You’re kidding. It’s been four hours driving, I need a break.
I feel like a pancake and eggs over easy and black coffee.
You’ll turn into one, why not try something else.

We pushed through the diner door into the cool interior.
We waited.
Where is everyone? Eileen looked through the back.

Through the windows in the street.
Two gunslinging cowboys were facing each other, ready to draw.
High Noon.

Eileen came back. Where is everyone?
We watched, incredulous. Was this for real?

The jukebox played Rawhide.
You folks want coffee?