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 River and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are:

1.gallivanting  2.curious  3.forest  4.bacon

and a picture of an old gate which I borrowed from ArcticFox and used

also including Charlotte's colour of the month: St Patrick's Green.

Here is my story:

 

My visiting cousin Rosie and I were walking Buddy early, before the heat of the day ramped up to furnace level and as we neared the derelict old Landsdowne estate, Buddy suddenly lunged toward the rusty old gate. 

"Hold it Buddy," I yelled, "you almost pulled my arm out of its socket!" Buddy wasn't too keen on stopping though and actually pawed at the gate before pushing his nose through the bars and sniffing energetically. 

Rosie caught up with us after stopping to pick dandelions and blowing the seeds. "What's up with Buddy?" she asked. "I don't know, he seems to want to get in through the gate." "What is this place anyway?" asked Rosie. 

"It's the old Landsdowne estate, been empty for decades now. The current owner inherited it when his Grandfather died, along with a heap of money and decided he would enjoy spending some of that while he was still young enough, that's what the story says anyway."

"It's a beautiful old place, I'm very curious about the interior, I love old places like this. Wait a minute!" Rosie said, "I know what's up with Buddy! he smells bacon! And I do too." 

"Are you sure?" I asked, "I can't smell anything because of these Murraya bushes, I love the St Patrick's Green of the leaves, but the flowers are beginning to bloom and I'm allergic, so I can't smell anything with my stuffed up nose."

"It's definitely bacon," said Rosie, "you know what Buddy is like when it comes to bacon. Maybe the gallivanting heir has returned." 

"I haven't heard anything to that effect," I said. "Usually Mum and the whole hairdresser-on-Thursdays-group know everything about this town almost before it happens and I remember Mum saying his last postcard to his Auntie Christine was sent from the rain-forest area of North Queensland in Australia, But that was several months ago." 

I looked across at Rosie as she thumped me on the arm. "What?" "Look," she said, "there's someone coming out of the front door." We stood mesmerised as a gorgeous young god of a man walked across the porch and came towards the gate. He must have been forty by now but looked much younger.

"Hello!" he called.