This is Café Aphra. Grab a coffee, take a seat and join in...
This is a FOUND, but the site won't let me put it in the right placeFoundIt wasn’t lost. I always knew where it was. So when you accused me of losing it, and I said I hadn’t, I wasn’t lying. When you said you’d teach me the difference between lost and found, and if I didn’t show it to you, you’d find something hard and you already knew the best place on my body to whack with that hard thing: you didn’t have to find it, I wanted to ask, If I’ll get beaten because I’ve lost it, if I show you that I know where it is, and that I don’t have to find it because it isn’t lost, will you then give me a reward. You just stared. But I knew where to find my own reward, because I’ve found where you hide your small change, and after I show you where it is, I’ll buy myself an ice cream as your reward.
Wow! This is a hard-hitting and intriguing piece, Joy. I love the ambiguity of it and the sinister undertones. Thanks a lot for sharing it for NFFD!
Joy, it was good to see your strong work here and in the Flash Flood as well.
John would never have guessed that a coffin could hold so many marbles. It was heavy too, by the time they had filled it. It had taken some time to source so many, and the Association of Marble Manufacturers of the United Kingdom (AMMUK) spokesman was even interviewed on Radio 4’s Today programme about the mysterious shortages that were being created in the marble world. George’s predicament was two-fold: he had lost his bet and, having climbed into the coffin before it was filled, couldn’t now get out. His only hope lay with his victor calling to collect his winnings. But the weight of the marbles was becoming unbearable. Slowly, he could feel his soft parts being crushed: each breath in brought less than the last breath out as the weight bore down. He couldn’t open his mouth to cry out and his nostrils were becoming increasingly constricted as the marbles settled.
John would never have imagined that so many marbles could fit into a coffin. He tipped the last bag in, enjoying the harsh sound of glass on glass and the bright flecks of early morning sunlight cast on the silk-lined lid. He slipped the empty bag into his pocket and eased to his feet, careful not to knock his elbow on the shop window.He'd put the brightest marbles – glowing and swirling with colour – on top. There'd be no missing his unconventional resignation notice.Worth every penny. Old Hendricks would be furious.Serves him right, John thought savagely. He was sick of Hendricks cajoling relatives to respect tradition, never giving them any choice. His idea of appropriate grief was as restricted and narrow as his coffins.John had other ideas: cardboard coffins, pallbearers in football kit, toys on the grave. His new business would offer it all. He padlocked the window display and pocketed the keys, whistling as he left.
Wow! Such great pieces here, Jackie and Tim! Really different takes on the prompt and I love the use of dark humour in both of them, and how yours Tim turns decidedly sinister and frightening at the end! Thank you very much for sharing.