Elbow Grease

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Photo prompt © C.E.Ayr

 

“It’s been a while since they lived here.”

I nodded. The place was filthy. A bit stinky, too.

“Nothing a little elbow grease won’t fix.”

I wished she would shut up. The property manager’s eagerness to sell the place was obvious. Her neglect of the place was, too. She might’ve spent a bit of elbow grease before showing the space.

No matter. The sorry state of the cottage might lower her price to my range.

“Why aren’t these garbage bins outside?” I ventured.

“Oh,” she fidgeted, “those are … um … kind of urns. They’d wanted to be buried in them, indoors.”

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

49 thoughts on “Elbow Grease”

  6. Na’ama Y’karah,

    I think at that point I’d ask to see another property. But it also puts me in mind of a friend who passed away a few years ago. She was an artist. Her ashes were interred in one of her own pottery vases, embellished by a feather boa. So Bevy. A very different and enjoyable take on the prompt.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Ah, yeah, me three … And … I know people who have their ashes interred or kept in a vessel of their choice. That’s a lot less creepy than those massive dumpsters in the living room … 😉

      Like

      Reply

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