*This is a weekly writing challenge hosted by fellow writer/bloggers Nicole, Carrie, Tena and Leanne. Each week you are given one photograph and 5 words to include in an original flash fiction story. The story can be no longer than 500 words*
This week’s photograph:
The words will be highlighted in bold throughout the story.
“‘Til Death Us Do Part”
He left out a VOWEL. Typical. I knew that cheap engraver had no idea what he was doing. He could barely speak a word of coherent English let alone spell. In hindsight, I should have paid a bit more and gone to someone a little more reputable, a jeweller perhaps, like the one who engraved our wedding rings all those years ago. Do you remember him? What a funny caricature of a man he was, like a character lifted out of a Charles Dickens novel – unnaturally thin with hands irreparably gnarled by arthritis. He was about 80 years old at the time, and told us how he had spent most of his life acting as a STOOL pigeon for Scotland Yard. He was completely batty, but he did beautiful work, and the etching on my band is still as clear as it was forty years ago.
‘Til Death Us Do Part.
It just seemed like an awful waste of money. You didn’t leave me very much, Harold, so I am inclined to blame you for this mess. As a result of your bad investments, you will forever be known as Harold Pincr. No ‘E’. I suppose it doesn’t matter really. They will demolish this park one DAY and replace it with yet more high-rise buildings, the ones that resemble the futuristic SPACESHIPs from those Science Fiction films you used to take me to see at the Drive Inn. That place is gone now too. They stripped it down and turned it into extra parking for the Traduna Mall.
Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say ‘Hello’ and tell you that the plaque looks good, despite the missing vowel. I know you must be very busy up there catching up with all your old friends and your mother, although I am inclined to believe she wound up in slightly warmer climes. Vile woman. If you see our dear Gracie, give her a pat on the head for me and tell her that I miss her every day, especially now as I sit here watching the autumn leaves gently fall from the trees. It’s CALM here today, and cold. Do you remember what cold feels like? Do you miss it? Do you remember our long walks to this very bench?How we would let Gracie off her lead and watch as she scampered through the forest, sniffing the damp ground, and shovelling slugs with her snout? Do you remember how we used to sit for hours side by side listening to the hum of the motor way, waiting for the cancer to kill you?
It is getting late, and I better make my way home. I am cooking your favourite tea tonight. Pilchards on toast. I am not sure why, but I had a hankering for them today. So long, my dear Harold Pincr. No ‘E’. I hope to see you again soon.
*word count: 483