Short story: bucket of ice

“A winter like this I have not known since I was a child in Germany,” said my mother, her mouth still full of z’s and v’s even after all these years. She shivered and took her gin and tonic back inside.

Oskar rapped his knuckles on the thick ice that had risen like a soufflé out of the garden bucket. Its tap dripped an icicle.

“Would you like some ice with that madam?” he laughed. Oskar turned the handle, twisting hard; his mouth twisting too with the effort. The tap snapped off.

I cried – for the cold, for the homesickness, but mostly for the waste of a bucket.

This piece of writing was for the 100 word (or so) prompt for Madison Woods’ #Fridayfictioneers. I’d be very happy to receive comments and constructive feedback.

29 thoughts on “Short story: bucket of ice

  1. Her mouth full of z’s and v’s…nice description of the German accent. Reminded me of my Polish/Yiddish grandfather.

    • I had a debate last night with my partner whether this description made her sound Polish rather than German, but I couldn’t find a way to be more specific. Thanks for your comment.

      • Polish? German? Lot of similarities in the accent. We used to chuckle at the way Grandpa said “Wolksvagen.” I think that’s common to both. I think ze description vorks either vay.

  2. An enjoyable short tale.
    Some great imagery – my favourite was the ‘thick ice that had risen like a soufflé’.
    Then there was the impression you left us of hard times with the crying over a broken bucket.
    A great read – thanks.

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