three line Tales: The mail coach

 

photo by Kirsty TG – click here for full res version

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Horns blast, hooves ring sharp and urgent on the cobbles. A blizzard of barks, shouts and calls has Tom jumping from his stool, sleep crusted lashes flicking as he reaches for his lamp, porter slopping from the jug to brighten the flagstones.

A mist rises from hot horse flanks, forming clouds dense enough to be a fog slunk up from the low marshes.

‘Ale’s sour,’ the coachman yells, emptying the tankard at his feet. Tom shrugs and runs on, leaving the dough-faced sot cussing.

Tom yearns for his bed by the stove, the familiar scratch of his straw mattress, the smell of wood smoke in his hair as he plummets into sleep.

Soon. Soon.

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Written for Sonya at Only 100 Words Three Line Tales. See the pic prompt, write you tale. See here for full Ts and Cs.