Copyright – Alastair Forbes
This prompt came from Alastair’s Photo Fiction Blog.
My name is Paul, and I grew up in Bridlington, in a squalid, one-bedroom apartment. My mother used to tell me, “It’s you and me against the world, Paul, it’s you and me.” It never felt that way. No, I was on my own and I knew it. Throughout my childhood, I wasted hours on the beach, walking along the litter strewn front. The foil of empty crisp packets reflected stony clouds. During the peak season, I stayed away from the smells of waffles and the sight of children with their ice cream cones, or the jealousy would crush me.
I went into the army when I left school, made a few friends who still visit me now and then. When I returned, I had enough money to buy the cart. I painted it up, bought stock, and I somehow made enough profit to survive. Sometimes, when cycling around, I see a lonely looking child. I give them an ice cream, and hope it’s enough to get them through the day.
To Be A Magician 