AnElephantCant claim to be nimble
He doesn’t find it easy to gallop up and down stairs
He is at his best
Having a short rest
Or snoozing in a couple of great comfy chairs
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 find some fascinating flights of fancy in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please cast an eye over AnElephant’s up and down imaginings first.
I sit distraught, hardly hearing the detective’s words.
My beautiful boy, only four years old, dead.
And Christina, my lovely young wife of less than a year, is being questioned at this moment.
She is apparently the main suspect.
In fact, the only one.
The police were called by a neighbour who was alerted by Sara’s hysterics on the front lawn.
Sara is seven, my little angel, still getting over the death of her mother three years ago.
The responding officers find Christina sitting in tears at the foot of the stairs, cradling my son in her arms.
His neck is broken.
They assume an accident until they find blood on the back of his head.
And traces on her engagement ring on the wash basin in her bathroom.
But they were getting along so well, I think to myself, Sara has been more difficult.
The detective shakes his head sadly as Christina is taken out to the cruiser.
Then I see the look on Sara’s face.
And I know the truth.