The mice scurried freely around the old abandon house. Many years had passed without a single human sharing their space. So imagine their surprise when the two large boots moved slowly across the warped floor boards. Their instinct to hide sent the mice darting for safety. Each mouse lay quietly behind the baseboards, watching the two large boots scuff through the dust filled room. The brown boots stirred the dust across the floor. Like an ocean wave crashing into the shore, a barrage of dust filled the protective cubby holes. As though on fire, each mouse burst from behind the wall, scattering for fresh air. The boots, at first intimidating, became comical as they lifted from the floor and flittered from the house like a ballerina. Tree Rabold This Short, short story was inspired by the Writing Essential Prompt: Short Short Stories
Her arthritic fingers gripped the arm of the recliner. She slowly lifted herself out of the chair and toward the window.
Her heart beat just a bit faster with excitement.
Was that her son’s car she heard?
Oh how she hoped it was him.
Is it a blue Chrysler? No, its a red Ford.
She slumped back into the recliner.
She stared at the light reflecting through the window. The brightness was misleading, the temperatures were dropping. Frost formed on the window pain.
“I’m sure the roads are getting bad, maybe he will come tomorrow.”
Maybe Tomorrow, a result of the Friday Fictioneer’s photo prompt.
Copyright Janet Webb