I know it’s meant to be Wordless Wednesday, but I couldn’t resist this bit of information.
Most British telephone boxes are painted red, although in 1949 the Royal Fine Arts Commission started allowing green ones in rural areas.
Doubtless, some people consider telephone box spotting as the type of activity enjoyed by an anorak-clad nerd. That being said, you might like to read an article titled Kiosk No 6, which is the history of telephone box styles.
First glance, one rainbow.
Look closer, double your luck
with two pots of gold.
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According to Irish mythology, there’s a pot of gold rainbow belonging to a leprechaun (fairy) at the end of each rainbow, although first you must catch the leprechaun to find the pot. But before you have a go, you best assess your chances of succeeding by clicking on this link
The good news is that, even if you don’t catch the elusive little blighter, rainbows are meant to bring you luck.
Rachel walked the rectangles of water, hoping to find a cure for old age. The featureless shallows surrounded by stark rock symbolised her brain. Lost memories and hardened blood vessels. If only she could see her reflection in these pools, her emptiness would vanish along with her wrinkles.
Today, Rachel’s face seemed closer to the water than ever, her spine bent double where the landscape had leached the minerals from her bones. For a second, in the white sun, she glimpsed a mirrored child, before walking over the edge and tumbling into the pools below along with her recaptured memory.
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A big thank you Rochelle Wisoff for this weeks photo prompt. This is my first contribution to Friday Fictioneers, a story of exactly 100 words in length. To find out how you can join in with the weekly flash fiction challenge and to read other people’s stories to go with the image above, do visit Rochelle’s blog.
I’m not sure if the neighbours with pristine front gardens approve of my cracked wall sprouting weeds but I think it has character, like my old G-reg car that’s only washed once every six months and has spider-webs attached to the wing mirrors.
My excuse. I’m a writer, of course, and see art where others see chaos.
Sarah Potter Writes 