Puff – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant stop himself writing
He always has a wee tale to tell
So when he sees Al’s prompt
His imagination is swamped
He just thinks well well well

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some more reasonable responses to this week’s excellent photo.
But please be kind and read AnElephant’s soggy story first.

Copyright Al Forbes

Puff

He wanders happily over the barren moors, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow across the land and his spirits.
He meets very few other ramblers, but exchanges a smile and a nod with each.
At his age he finds the steep path back into the village to be something of a challenge, so he is now glad of his stout stick, a chunk of oak branch which reminds him of a dragon.
And, of course, Puff is his favourite song, the one he sings most often to his beloved grandson.
Darkness is now falling and, although he is not far from the market square, the area is deserted.
So he is surprised when he reaches the top of the hill to see a woman gazing into the well, as if preparing to make a wish.
When she ignores his greeting he swings Puff against the back of her head and watches her body crumple and tumble down the shaft to splash in the water far below.