Standin theer leyke cheese at fourpence.

Flash Fiction

Ken Preston

14 January 2024

A black and white photograph of a mysterious man standing in a garden looking into the camera.

Another photograph of someone I don’t know. Anybody who would know who this is will be dead now.

I remember asking my Aunt Barbara if she knew who he was, but she had no idea. She recognised the location of the photograph, I think she even knew whose house it was, but other than that she was as mystified as I was.

And then a year or two later she died.

I can’t think of anyone else I could ask.

I have to say though, I don’t like the look of him. He’s up to no good if you ask me.

This fifty word piece of flash fiction should be read in a thick Lancashire dialect.

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