With Joanna now bundled into one of her sweatshirts and clutching her from the passenger seat, Nancy slowly and carefully skippered the motorcycle up and out of the meadow, down the muddy lane, then motored on until pulling over at the real estate office in town where some young women were now sitting on benches outside.
“My dears, is anything the matter, we weren’t expecting to see you… so soon.”
“There’s got to be an explanation, maybe you can tell us, my friend says something about the well…”
“Oh, isn’t that a lovely well, very old, on the same aquifer as the town water.”
“We were just wondering how you ladies were doing, and I was even inspired to start up my old Indian. How about we take a ride back up to the cabin and see what’s going on?”
*** *** *** ***
Despite the circumstances, Nancy couldn’t help but admire the red Indian motorcycle that the real estate agent rolled up on. “Wow, what is that, like 1915, is it original?”
“1917, and yes, it’s all original, in fact, I am the original owner.”
Suddenly Joanna roused herself and spoke in a tremulous voice from behind Nancy, “You, you are all so young!”
“Why thank you”, said one of the women from the bench, smiling cunningly, “It must be something in the water.”
Nancy’s heart skipped a beat as the implications of the woman’s response finally registered.
Liberties were taken, I doubled up on the six sentence constraint, for the same reason that there are 12 packs of beer; sometimes six isn’t enough. Perhaps this ongoing Well tale (click for full series) still isn’t resolved, but anything over a twelve pack in one sitting would be excessive. Thank you Zoe at Life Under the Radar for the prompts.
Six sentences any way you like, any genre, any length, any order…just six. Use the cue SKIP.