I don’t know how she did it for all those years; there are a lot of stairs, even for me. Still, she loved that house and always said that she’d never move. When Bert passed, we thought she’d change her mind, but she was a stubborn wotsit.
She didn’t get many visitors over the last few years. Nobody could stomach the climb. Half her friends had plastic hips. The other half were using frames.
It was a ridiculous house, really. Who builds a bloody bungalow atop five flights of stairs?
Poor Ethel. May she finally rest her legs in peace.
Hey, listen
Take a look at the rest of the stories based on this week’s photo prompt. All written to the 100 word limit! Thanks to Jennifer Pendergast for this week’s picture prompt.

Leave a reply to Neil MacDonald Cancel reply