The Ambitious Drifter

Words, Images and The Occasional Noise

Dancing At All Hallows Eve – Flash Fiction

I still send a weekly  entry to the Faber Quickfic Challenge. I haven’t won recently, but it’s good writing practice. Being in Australia, it’s something to do after dinner on a Friday night. There’s always a photo, or a quote, which is the prompt.  The stories might not make too much sense without the prompt, but this one was for Halloween. I made up a tradition for my imaginary village of Schowham.

Dancing At All Hallows.

I’m always Horse at the bonfire, well since my Dad retired. Don’t think I don’t have to fight for it though. Part of the fun they say, just for the craic. Someone is named for it, then the old Horse must fight back. Fair means or foul…good for a laugh.

The old folk say it’s the Old Ways, ancient as the wheeling stars that hang above the Stones. They like that, most of them moved here after the bypass went in. Some of them came here because of the Stones… the ones my Dad helped choose from the garden centre for the Jubilee.   I’m The Horse and Rabbit is from one of the pubs. It’s the Lamb Inn or the Lion… take turns to select one. A daft singer came down from Dorset a few years back, called her The White Hare… but it’s Rabbit to us. Cracking nice girls too. I always get a snog, part of the fun. Boyfriend can’t be jealous eh? All tradition and that.

This year wasn’t hard. Rowley from the garage, mischievous old sod, goes and names that new young copper from over the way. Naming rights is whoever thinks of someone first. He’s not a bad lad really, we all got him a few pints when we heard. Best keep on the good side of the law.

He isn’t Horse though… I saw to that. Called away, surprisingly….Got Amazon to send him a DVD of ‘The Wicker Man’. Turns out I was right.

wpid-img_20151102_211742.jpgDoomsgate (next to Boots Chemists) Schowham, Morchestershire.

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