Flash Fiction – Warm Memories for Fuel
by Mick Wynn
Photo courtesy of Jan W. Fields
Such sweet memories. Christmas carols each year and how many party renditions of Roll out the Barrel? And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Fred doing their Hinge and Bracket renditions. Oh, the laughter that rang through this house.
Mum polished that piano every day and her mother before her. They called it Daisy. Pampered, like an old, trusty friend.
They’re all gone now and it’s cold outside. It’s laid down a foot of snow, even if I could walk; but it’s cold and there’s no coal left in the house. The polish should help it burn hotter.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Pop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here.
Michael Wynn 
Oh that bought tears to my eyes. Very touching.
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Thanks Louise, glad you liked it, glad it worked.
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It did indeed. Welcome to blogging 🙂
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Yes it is very touching.
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Thanks Ottilliah
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I’m still learning too Michael. Fortunately I have a great friend guiding me
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I am still learning how posting and blogging works, but I really enjoyed the ending on the Friday Fictioneer post. Michael
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What a sad end for a much appreciated heirloom. Well done.
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I felt tears burning in my eyes.. So very strong… It’s like life close to an abyss.
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That’s very kind of you, thanks Bjorn
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Oh no, not the piano… but better than freezing to death. This is so sad.
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Thanks,It’s great to know it works like that
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How sad that his fortunes have sunk to this low point. You tell his story in a matter of fact tone that makes it all the more tragic.
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Thanks, Margaret. Glad you liked it.
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