Homecoming

He could see the front door was open. It often was during the summer, in an effort to get a breeze through the flat. He climbed the stairs, and walked through to the living room. His wife and four children were sitting there, each doing their own thing, but together as a family.

All the people he had grown up with had got better jobs, earned more money, and in some cases were living abroad. He had dreamed of all these things in the past, but as he stood in the door, he knew he was richer than them all.

Stonehenge

King Eric stood on the hill, and took in what he could see.

‘OK. So, it’s finished, is it?’

‘Yes, your Majesty. All finished. I hope you are going to like it. It’s taken many many summers to complete.’

‘Yes, it has taken rather a long time, hasn’t it. And now, after all this time, can you please tell me what it is? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like a ring of stones around another ring of stones.’

‘That’s it exactly, your Majesty. We’ve dragged these stones from a place far away, and brought them here for your pleasure.’

‘Why?’

‘Sorry, your Majesty?’

‘It’s a simple enough question. Why have you dragged these stones all the way from who knows where, stood them on their ends and placed some more on top? What possible benefit can there be to me or any of my people?’

‘It’s a holy place, your Majesty. It is somewhere to go to worship the Sun, and maybe offer up a sacrifice. It should please him immensely.’

‘And you know this for certain, do you? That this huge ring of stones will please the Sun so much that he won’t burn us to death?’

‘Well, obviously, I can’t say for certain, but I’ve got a pretty good idea about what makes him tick, your Majesty. Most of the time after a sacrifice we get a nice, sunny day. It must work.’

‘Most of the time. But not always. I have to feel sorry for the families of those virgins we’ve sacrificed, in the hope of a bit of sunshine, and all we’ve had is more rain. It must be very upsetting for them.’

‘Which is why this should make things better. We have built a temple, where we can pay homage to the mighty Sun.’

‘Well, I hope you’re right. It will all seem like a massive waste of time if it doesn’t work.’

‘Yes, but that’s not all, your Majesty. The stones are set up so that on the day the Sun is in the sky for the longest time, it will line up with two of the standing stones. That way, we will know when it is the middle of the year.’

‘OK. Let me get this straight. You have spent a huge amount of time, and used countless men to assist in bringing these stones here, just so that once a year you know what day it is. And on other days, we can use it to sacrifice virgins, or maybe the odd sheep, in the hope that we might get a little sunshine the next day.’

‘That’s about it, your Majesty, yes. What do you think?’

‘Honestly? I’m wondering why I didn’t question the whole operation summer’s ago. What a complete and utter waste of time. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you telling me that you’re a virgin. Only I could do with some sunshine tomorrow.’

Struggling with a story

As I have said before, I like to write 100 word stories. For ideas, I ask people to give me three words, which I then have to incorporate into the story. Some of the suggestions can be quite challenging, but that's all part of the fun.

A few weeks ago one of my colleagues gave me three words that I have been struggling with ever since. I have now come up with something, but I'm not sure if I'm happy with it.

So I have put it here for others to see:

Tom sat on the kitchen stool, watching his mum. He could barely contain his excitement. ‘What happens now, Mum?’

‘Well, I’ve carved the boat. Now I need to ice it, and put the sail, rudder and other miscellaneous bits on. Then it should look like a proper sailing dingy.’

He played with an egg timer while she placed a wooden dowel perpendicular to the ‘deck’ of the cake. Other boys had football cakes; he wanted to be different. His dad had loved sailing. Now the cake would bring back his memory at least. He missed his dad so very much.

I'll find out tomorrow if she likes it.

Torture

Adam’s eyelids felt like thick duvets that were being held back from crumb filled sheets. When had he last slept? He had no idea. Sleep deprivation – was that torture? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he felt certain about was that his interrogator’s lack of deodorant was torture enough.

“Wake up!” He was jolted out of unconsciousness by a slap around the face from this pathetic specimen of humanity. For a brief moment, he had managed to escape from this Hell, back to his childhood and carefree times. Reality came as a bigger slap than the guard could ever muster.