Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Wisewebwoman and can be found here

Also including Charlotte's colour of the month: Light Blue

This week's words/prompts are: 

1. arithmetic 2. daffodils 3. bicycle 4. graveyard 5. sympathy 

and/or: 

1. gravy 2. tugboat 3. flag 4. hospital 5. freedom

Here is my story:

The evening knock at the door was barely audible but the code was well known. Bill walked back into the dining room and said just three words, “Time to go.” Everyone knew what that meant and set about readying themselves. The fireplace greedily ate all photos and IDs, letters and utility bills too.

Within thirty minutes a mist grey van pulled up in the back alley and everyone piled in with only a small suitcase each. As the driver took off, a small man in tattered clothing swept away all traces of the tyres.

“The Boss” and his men entered the house early next morning and they spread though the rooms in search of the occupants. No trace could be found. The dinner table had been completely cleaned, even the tugboat shaped gravy boat had been wiped clean of fingerprints. A picture on a wall showed a girl on a bicycle in a field of daffodils against a light blue sky, but it was cut from a magazine, and wasn’t a real photo.

The Boss’s men cleared room by room and found only an arithmetic problems book from a nearby school, dusty and well worn, forgotten at the back of a wardrobe but easily twenty years old. It couldn’t possibly have belonged to any member of the family The Boss was after. He ground his teeth in frustration.

“Flag this place,” he said to his men, “mark it as useless, but we’ll come back for one more check next week.” They wiped away their own fingerprints and left as quietly as they had come. An unseen curtain several doors down twitched a Sylvia took notice of them and their mode of transportation. She noted they drove past the hospital turn off and headed towards the graveyard.

“Wrong direction you scumbags,” she muttered, without a trace of sympathy for those drug smuggling crooks, and silently thanked whoever had warned the family who now still had their freedom. A few hours later, Sylvia phoned the police and let them know “The Gang” had been seen and The Boss was with them this time. Then she took that phone apart and baked it in the oven at 400 degrees.