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Mane frame

A cold breeze rustles the tent flaps of the amusement park.

A flyer lifts in the gust and disappears into the darkness. Wooden horses glow grey in the eerie light of the carousel.

They wait…for the people to come and colour them with their laughter.

……

Why do we never go anywhere, asked the peach horse with the gold bridle.

“The people like it that way. The same patterns, the same results…afraid of stepping off. They’ll be back tomorrow…you’ll see,” replied the wise old grey, whose paint had long faded from the scuffing of shoes.

……

“Lights, camera, action”

Laughter rippled among the other horses as they strained against the poles to spot the joker in their midst.

But night had fallen and the caretaker had switched off the power supply.

***

(3 short stories inspired by Sonya’s Three Line Tales photo prompt)

3linetales

photo by Harpal Singh via Unsplash

 

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