Bedtime
With three brothers, sleeping alone in a double bed might have seemed luxurious. Not so! The room was cold, lonely and a possible lair for murderers.
Trepidaciously, with heavy heart, I would slowly mount the stairs each night. What would I find? The squeaking of oil-thirsty door hinges did little to help. Time for my ritual.
Hardback book in hand, ready to strike, gingerly I lifted the valance, tilting my head to check if a muderer was hidden there. Phew, not tonight! Relief!
Until one day my little brother hid under my bed. I screamed, he laughed......
until......
KERKLUNK!
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
2 comments add one below
-
Neville Hunt almost 7 years ago
Inspired by, but not remotely in the same league as, Drew's recent poetic gem, which stirred a childhood memory. Thanks, Drew. :-)
-
Neville Hunt almost 7 years ago
Yes, although the three of us older ones probably deserved this kind of trick as we used to pick him up and sit him on the doormat. Every so often one of us would say the important words, "there's nothing left to do but sit Philly on the doormat!" So we did, time and time again. My poor mother, and Philly of course, but he could retaliate!
