Friday Fictioneers – Stairs
Ahoy to all those aboard the Good Ship FriFic! Capn Rochelle has brought us one of her own pics for this leg of the ongoing voyage in search of literary treasure:
I’m not sure my 100 words count as a story in that they don’t have a beginning, middle and end, but here they are nonetheless:
Our mothers always knew the truth. However ingenious our excuses, however inventive, we were always found out. We believed they had supernatural abilities, were as omnipotent as any higher powers.
It was only when we grew older that we realised the metal staircase echoed our voices throughout the building. The childhood schemes and fabrications we whispered on the ground floor, below stairs, were broadcast clearly to listening adult ears.
Footsteps, too, were undisguised. Wives knew of husbands’ returns, and served evening meals. Of milkmen’s or postmen’s deliveries, and opened their doors. And of rent collectors’ rounds, and hid silently indoors.