Friday Fictioneers – The Coach

ff160714Mr Juniper lived alone at the end of Cotton Lane. The sprawling branches of an untamed Oak meant it always looked dark in there, even in summer; summer was the only time we ever went inside. He ran the athletics club, the papers said he was a state champion in his day.

We always used to change in the room at the back. Dust covered every surface. Above the blocked fireplace he had one of those big, ugly moose heads – it was a dump, but he was a good coach.

Mr Juniper now lives in the Morndale Penitentiary. I never saw the eyes move, but the jury were sure.

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

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19 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – The Coach

      1. paulmclem Post author

        Indeed. Think the worst is yet to come as well with this Westminster thing. What seems to have been dismissed as a minor character flaw, in certain circles during the 70s and 80s, beggars belief.

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