What I wore, was their problem.
Sleeves or without sleeves, that was my choice.
They wanted to cover my bare arms with laces and clothes.
I got myself tattoos stitched permanently for a sleeve.
I thought the problem was solved; instead it became another problem of theirs.
“Do you see that?”
“What is it?”
“A big oven.”
“What do they cook over there?”
“I’m Micky and you are….”
Micky gave a puzzled look.
“Yah! That’s my name. See this,” said no.7 as he extended his right hand, “they tattooed it in my wrist.”
“That’s cool. My mom says I’m too young to get myself tattooed. You look my age. How did you convince your mom?”
“I didn’t. They just did it.”
“You ask too many question,” said no.7 and vanished like a smoke.
Micky screamed “Ghost! Ghost!” and ran like a weasel never to check this spot again.
Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford
Rochelle Wisoff- Fields-Addicted to Purple is the place where every Friday a photo is shared with an aim to write a fiction around it in 100 words or less. Anyone who wants to participate can click at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS to know about the rules.
Today’s photo is a contribution from Marie Gail Stratford.
A great thanks to both Rochelle and Marie for today’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to all my readers for their time and comments.