I spent my morning in the dentist chair; the usual scolding over the shrill of the pick- flossing habits, night guard usage and warnings of a crowned future. All I could think “Ugh! I don’t have time for this. I need to write”.

Didn’t they understand its Fictioneer’s Time- “One for all and all for one” musketeer style. Inspiration comes at the most inopportune moments.  So I flew from the chair grabbed my notepad, scratched a few words and tore across town to get to the office and a computer.

Here’s my offering.

Copyright -Sandra Crook

San Gréal

Tractors make terrible getaway cars. Normally.

“What day’s the hay delivered to the stables?”

“Dimanche.”

“But it’s Tuesday” Philip pondered. Perhaps that’s why they’re exiting the gate teaming with bales. “Must be a mistake…”

Entering the grand hall he immediately noticed the missing portrait of Père Dumas. “ Mon Dieu the chalice” he took off running for the gallery.

Geneviève smiled and turned towards the kitchen knowing she was the only thing of value left.  Seventeen centuries of witchcraft flowed through her sang réal.  Once upon a time, not so long ago, he’d been a frog.

“Where’s that locator spell!”
 

Word Count: 100

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P.S. Please make sure to read the others.

Thanks Rochelle as always for graciously hosting the prompt for our 100 words novella . This week’s image by Sandra Cook is tugging upon a deeper wanderlust.  Temptation’s temptation.