Thank you Rochelle for the first Friday-Fictioneers of 2024. Dale’s picture looks inviting for a refreshing walk though the woods and down to the lake, pity about the waterlogged path.
As always more stories can be found climbing HERE.
(Maybe I should place an icon here instead, maybe next time).
Truth Fades–Mud Sticks.
Harold slung his bag over his shoulder. The catch was three rainbow trout, full and meaty. He picked up his rod and headed back to the lodge and ignored the slime and mud slopping over the top of his boots.
He visualised the commotion that would ensure in his office when he fired the three accountants. They tried to hide the cash discrepancies and became sloppy. His scrutiny of the expense payments showing their gambling habits.
Shame, they were nice guys. Blame and mud will fly in every direction.
His secretary, Carmen, was waiting with a cosy fire.
Who knew?
James McEwan 