(100-word flash fiction)
“Ah! Treasure trove!” said Harry, spotting the piled-up pallets, spouting broken bits-and-pieces.
Megan smiled, bemused. She had never thought her new, immaculately-dressed boyfriend would have a fetish for junk.
“Look! A lamp!” He pulled out a dulled bronze thingy.
“Do you think I should rub it?” Harry’s face sparkled with anticipation as he turned towards her.
But, she was gaping, horror-stricken, at something behind him.
“Your wish shall be fulfilled, dear girl.” said the ghost of Henry VIII. “Poor bugger didn’t know the one the lamp is pointed at makes the wish.”
“Croak!” said Harry and jumped into the lake.
My muse is a tad naughty this time. I had a great time visualising this. You can tell I am not a royalist 😀 Thanks to the lovely Rochelle for shepherding us week after week with such graciousness.