Rochelle sets us a one hundred word flash fiction challenge, prompted by a photo, every week. Come and have a go, if you think you’re bard enough.
Eventually, someone called an ambulance and they came to take him away. A crowd had gathered; it was all rather cringe-worthy. Old Dennis had been selling ice-cream outside the Octagon for as long as anyone could remember. Some folk related their earliest memories; their parents taking them for a “Dennis”. Sad to see him come to this: he’d given such pleasure, not just through ice-cream, his cheeky smile; the way he ragged the kids; his corny jokes; his over-the-top welcomes. He managed a smile as they led him away but something had gone; he was bewildered; selling ice-cream in January. (100)
NB: apologies in advance to FFers who don’t get feedback from me. Our server is having a fit: hopelessly slow and apparently many of you are now pornographers!?!