The Beads – Sunday Photo Fiction

 AnElephantCant remember how many
Of anything it takes to change a light bulb
Because he ain’t too bright
So if you need some light
Stay well clear or he may accidentally squash you to pulp

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Follow the link to see a discotheque of stories shine a light on your best moves.
But please read AnElephant’s switched on submission first.

Copyright Al Forbes

The Beads

She sits anxiously sipping tea in her neighbour’s front room.
The police are searching her home and garden again, this time much more thoroughly.
She has given them every detail of her daughter’s appearance.
Her hair and eye colour (blonde, blue), her height (3 feet 3 inches), the clothes and shoes she looked so pretty in, even the plastic birthday jewellery she was wearing for the first time.
Old Rob pats her hand sympathetically, supportively, he has been such a comfort for so long.
He was there to help when they moved in, there when Connie was born, five years ago yesterday, there as a shoulder to cry on when Steve left.
She smiles back gratefully, strained but sincere, and clears the dishes into the kitchen.
At the back door, reflected in the light bulb, lies a single pink bead.