Waste of a Sharpie

Please vote to help me decide what to write in October. At the moment, the serial is winning, so I’m continuing yesterday’s tale to practice my serialisation skills:

‘Paws off my Sharpies, Pheebs. They’re the last of their kind.’

old map of the UK and Ireland‘I need to update this map.’

‘Use your own pens.’

‘I didn’t bring any.’

‘You can’t have mine.’

‘Don’t you think it’s important we keep track of the coastline?’

‘Why? It keeps changing, anyway. I won’t let you waste a Sharpie on it.’

‘I thought maybe we could take one of the abandoned boats and…’

‘Are you crazy?’

‘Mum may have changed her mind.’

‘Too late. Too dangerous. Too…’

‘Willow, please.’

‘She won’t leave.’

‘Because of Dad?’

‘She’ll never leave his grave behind.’

‘But…’

‘I know, Pheebs. I know.’

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4 thoughts on “Waste of a Sharpie

  1. So they did leave mum behind. Maybe she’s right not to go. I’ve always thought if the world went ‘Mad Max’, there’d be a lot of us (myself included) who would find it too hard to cope in a world without petrochemicals, TV, the internet – comforts. Leave all that to the string, young folk. I say, let’s stay put somewhere we love, grab the last bottle of our favourite tipple and let the water take us 🙂

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