I am scared mum, are you sure that he is harmless, he don’t look it. Always standing there, watching. He gives me the willies. He’s always there. As for that hat, it’s hideous, and he’s always got a flower in his button hole. He thinks that he is a lady killer.
Dad always had a flower in his button hole, and a cravat, and we know what he did, don’t we. I hope there’s a good lock on the gate. At least the brambles will stop him climbing the wall.
Do you think he’s got a gun. Old Joe don’t like him. Said that he’s a stuffed shirt, and that he’s got ants in his pants, and worms in his feet. It makes me feel sick thinking about it. It does. It’s no use I can’t go out to play whiles he’s there.
Mum what are those matches for?
Footnote: This is a short piece of fiction for a new writing site, that is new to me. The site is titled Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Well I aspire. I feel unsure about Old Joe, as a piece of writing, I was attempting to portray a young child talking, any feed back will be welcome. Mike. Ps. Old Joe’s is the gardener.