Thursday, 13 September 2012



"All things come to he who waits" she used to say to him.
He was cold, tired and wet. It smelled bad in here. The noises outside rang in his ears and made his head hurt.   
He felt for Babbit but his hand touched something sharp. He tried not to cry.
“Big boys don’t cry.” She used to say to him.
It started to rain and it sounded like he was inside a tin drum.
“Stop banging that damned drum!” she used to say to him.
He peered over the lip of the dumpster.
She was gone. What else was he to do but wait?

105 Words

 This was written for Thursday Threads 38


  1. O my. This one really sucked me in - the plight, the solitude, the endless waiting inside the dumpster. Coupled with the photo prompt, I can only imagine what awaits him when he finally does look outside. :(

    Great entry!! Well done. :)

  2. Hi Angela

    Thanks for your comment. This was the feeling I was trying for - in direct contrast to the humorous or light hearted stories I often write.
    Pleased that you enjoyed it. Thanks for visiting!