” Sweetheart, I went haywire after being sentenced working these fields. Sweat trickles down my forehead so close to freedom. The farm-girls’ cotton skirts sway rhythmically reminding me of when I danced with the girls of Montmartre, before we met, sweetheart, becoming united. I long for you my sweetheart as now you walk alone. I have to find my way out, to bail out.
To bail or not to bale?
The idea almost struck me down, and now I’ve found my way out hidden in the hay.
We will meet again, sweetheart, and you can explain why you witnessed against me.”
What hit me first was the pun. So bailing was my starting point. And as always my mind went to dark places. This is 100 words, and yes his sweetheart had better watch out.
Friday Fictioneers is a community of bloggers who every week write 100 words to the same picture. Managed tirelessly by Rochelle yo can go to her page to see how it’s done.
February 26, 2014