I’m not going to call my favourite this week, the winner, because every interpretation of the picture is a winner. In fact I have two favourites, Diane Dickson’s because it’s a good story, and Bill Engleson’s because of the carrotty-coloured shirt he thought he’d buried his dad in.
Here’s Diane’s contribution:
The constant beat of hooves, the rush and roar of the cascade and the gentle shush of the wind through the oaks, were here only accompaniment. She took with her the memory of his arms, the ghost of his kiss and the stinging slap of his hand on her cheek and somewhere she found the strength to leave him.
and here’s Bill’s:
No foolin’, there I was, wearing my favourite carroty-coloured shirt, the one I thought we buried dad in, astride Silver, you know, the Lone Ranger’s steed, crossin’ an old bridge that looked like it was wooden dentures, and this old toothy bridge is in some bosky forest, and all the time I’m wondering, how did I get to Poland and boy, I could sure eat some perogy now?
Thanks to all of you. Now to post this week’s challenge…