The Little Red Wishing Man

Wotton-under-Edge Creative Writing Group

It’s been the best day; the best day ever.

I’ve got the biggest ice cream with a straw, I got one of each, I couldn’t decide, the colours are swidging together, like it must look in my tummy.  I’m backwards in my chair, watching the Little Red Man.

The ice cream is slurping very, very loud, they haven’t stopped me yet.

Behind me Daddy says,

“It’s been a good day.”

Mummy says,

“Yes, hasn’t it.”

Then she stops.

Daddy says.

“We were lucky with the weather; we might even get home dry.”

I stop sucking; I want to know if Daddy is staying at home tonight.

When I found the table for us, Mummy said I could make up a story, about the little man holding the door while they grown-up talked.  I’m watching him over my pink straw, backwards in my chair. Balls of little ice hit my tongue…

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