Write on Time

A piece of short fiction inspired by, but not actually using, the word TARDY from Your Daily Word Prompt.


Gone ten, I should be at my desk by nine. Right, I’ll leave the dishes and forget about the laundry. But this room is thick with dust, and there are biscuit crumbs everywhere.

Eleven o’clock! How did that happen? Time to sit down and finish chapter two. Do not check emails. Ignore Twitter and the cute cat gifs. And on no account go anywhere near Facebook.

Lunchtime, already. I could eat a quick sandwich in the kitchen, but I’m out of bread, and they do all-day breakfasts at the café on Thursdays.

Oh my, it’s gone two, but I needed that break; this story is a pain to write. I don’t know enough about budgerigars. Maybe I should google them.

That was interesting, but perhaps a parrot will make a better plot device.

Four o’clock, the kids will be home from school soon and I have nothing for their tea. They’ll have to make do with takeaway pizza, again. I’ll do a couple of hours after they go to bed.

Nearly midnight, but there were only two episodes of Poirot left to watch. And I had to know who did it!

I am so tired now, I think I’ll go to bed and start afresh tomorrow.

One-Liner Wednesday – Is Time Ever Wasted?

There are mountainous, arduous days, up which one takes an infinite time to climb, and downward-sloping days, which one can descend at full tilt, singing as one goes.

Marcel Proust

LindaGHill hosts One-Liner Wednesday
Check out her blog for the rules and to see who else is participating.

BONUS QUOTE!

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana

Attributed to Groucho Marx

Lullaby in Ragtime

‘One more spoonful, there’s a good girl.’ Janice scooped up the last of the chocolate mousse. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

A gummy smile and the yarping noises showed she did.

‘Time for your nap, but I’ll change you first.’

She put the soiled nappy in the bin and sat on the bed. This was not what she expected, or wanted from life.

Fingers tugged at her sleeve.

‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ Janice patted the hand and sang a song from her own childhood.

Then she wiped her eyes. And kissed the sleeping face of her mother.