Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

Why not contact us for more details about our small, mutually supportive monthly meetings? Don't be shy. No need to be brave!

Sheila 01823 67 28 46

Valerie 01884 84 04 22

Friday 15 April 2011

You Mean It’s Not Your Gun?

So by this point we'd all had a bit to
drink. With Sukie's father away we had
the whole house to ourselves. We ran
about exploring like children, the earlier
rows forgotten. In the library Rafe found
an old camera and we hammed it up,
striking poses, pulling faces. Then Topsy
opened an unlocked drawer and crowed
with laughter. "Go on, do James Bond!"
she said as she handed it to me. And
that's why my fingerprints were on the
gun, Your Honour.

© R. Rushforth
All rights reserved

No comments: