Her friend Tanya has a night-light.
When the dark comes, a lit-up ladybird keeps Tanya safe.
Susie’s mum is cross. Susie should grow up and not be scared of everything. And stop telling stories.
Every night Susie lies alone, watching the light disappear. Listens out for footsteps. Says nothing.
This story is exactly fifty words long. It's part of a series of 50 word stories I've been writing to accompany photographs I take. Sometimes the photos and stories are a direct match, other times there's something about the photo that sparks off an idea. I'm not sure why I started doing them, but I know they have helped me to look a little bit harder. To take the kind of frame Anne Lamott talks about in Bird by Bird and apply it to bits of my life that I wouldn't otherwise notice.
You can read more 50 word stories here.
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'More than five bruises a day are started by Bernard. Don not blow out, as sparks can fly. Use a snuffer, make sure he's completely put out at night.' Sally reread the leaflet. Dan, the firefighter, was pleased she wasn't just another passer-by, taking the leaflet just to please him.
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