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- 06/04/2017
- 557 Words
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
A prompt a week - 45. Bradley's Morning
Bradley opens his front door to find the roadway is gone and a park is now there. Has he lost his mind or is this the start of a strange adventure?
Bradley stood with his front door open and found a park. Bradley stared, shocked, but then he had a bowl of cereal and a large mug of coffee sitting on his kitchen table. There is no way a park could have taken over a busy street that connected the two parts Newport Corners, could it? The only question was who had rung his doorbell at this ungodly hour on a Sunday morning?
Bradley yawned and started to close his door, content in knowing this had to be dream, when suddenly a small pink and violet ball shot out of the park and right past his ear.
“What the hell was that?” Bradley turned quickly and found the ball sliding around on his hardwood floor, finally coming to a halt under his glass table.
As he watched in amazement, the ball slowly seemed to split open like an egg and a fully formed man stood up. The man stood all of a foot high, was a deep indigo color, and totally nude.
“I really need to wake up,” Bradley muttered as he rubbed his eyes and then slapped his own cheek.
“Funny way to greet a guest,” came a deep rich voice from the figure on the floor.
“Guest?” Bradley squeaked as he took a sudden step back, hit his front door, slamming it shut.
Click.
“Finally,” came the same rich voice as the figure walked toward Bradley, growing rapidly to over six feet. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to close that door. Did you grow up in a barn or something?”
Bradley sat against his door unsure what was going on. He shoved his glasses back up his nose and ran his hand through his hair. This hard to be a nightmare was what he kept repeating to himself.
“Hey, do you mind if I borrow something to wear? These New England springs are murder on a Fairy’s body.”
“Fairy?” Bradley watched the perfectly formed blue globes of the six foot Fairy bounce down the hall toward his bedroom.
“Well, you didn’t think I was a troll? Those suckers are all rocky and don’t like light. And if I was a brownie,” he paused, sniffed the air, and wrinkled his nose. “Ewww. I’d do the laundry because your dirty clothes smell like you played for a week in horse manure. You were born in a barn, weren’t you?” The Fairy disappeared into the bedroom.
Bradley slowly stood up and made his way back to the kitchen. He picked up his mug and took a large swig of his barely warm coffee. “I’m losing my mind.”
Bradley had just taken a seat when the Fairy came striding into the kitchen.
“You have no taste in clothes. You must own everything in fifty shades of grey or tan. Your wardrobe would make a blind cyclops cry.” The Fairy stood ripping the sleeves off Bradley’s best dress shirt and pulling it over his massive frame. He was also wearing Bradley’s sweat pants and slides.
“Why are you here?” Bradley slowly set his mug down and tried not to stare at the blue six pack with indigo treasure trail standing before him.
“Because someone has to get the damn groom ready for the wedding!” The Fairy smiled as Bradley passed out onto the floor.
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17
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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