Christmas angels made from stained glass, wire, beads and buttons
“Sit still Ricky.” The boy burrowed his face into his mother’s neck.
“How long has he been complaining of the pain?” Asked Dr Matthews.
“Oh, he never complains.”
“A stoic little boy, eh?” Mother and child looked blank. The doctor coughed. “Well, let’s take a look, shall we?”
“He says it feels like butterflies or…”
“If you could just hold him tight,” the doctor interrupted. He turned on his otoscope and shone the instrument into Ricky’s ear. There were the usual spirals but then near the eardrum Dr Matthews saw a light and just in front, shadows, dancing.
“…or angels,” said his mother.
I sent this picture to my friend Sarah this week, simply because I liked it, and she said it reminded her of the inside of an ear. She also suggested other things, but they’re probably too rude to print. So, ear it was.
This piece of writing is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group. Each week writers from around the world attempt to write 100 words (or so) starting with a picture, this week from Jennifer Pendergast.
I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture or to join in, with the group hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields.