Standin theer leyke cheese at fourpence.
14 January 2024
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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