Image courtesy of Ted Strutz
I’ve finished the copy edits on ‘The Sister.’ It’s gone to the typesetters and it’s nice to have a bit of breathing space to join in with this week’s Friday Fictioneers, guilt free.
There’s a pounding on the front door.
I’m in the bathroom, rigid with fear. Where can I hide it? My parents will be so ashamed.
Dad’s footsteps thud down the hallway, the front door creaks open.
‘We’ve a warrant.’
My heart thump-thump-thumps. They’ll find it.
Dad will kill me.
We wait outside the flat while drawers are pulled open, contents strewn.
‘We found this is in the kitchen.’ Plastic bags are held aloft.
‘That’s recreational,’ says Dad.
‘And this on top of the toilet cistern.’ My copy of Oliver Twist.
‘You’ve been….reading?’ Dad looks at me with disgust. ‘You’re no son of mine.’
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here.