This was my submission to the Flash Fiction 81 Word website
This one appears as Story No.059:
“Stalking? Is that what you said?”
“Yes. I’m sure he was.” The old lady grasped the young constable’s arm firmly, looking from side to side with wild eyes, breathing heavily.
The policeman gently prised her fingers from his sleeve.
“Where was this, love? Was he, like, threatening you?”
“No, officer, just chasing me. I hid there.”
As she pointed, a young man emerged from the park entrance.
“Okay, mum, it’s all right now. Time to take you back to the home.”
I also submitted a second one, before I learned it’s only one entry per author:
The Last Roar
So that was that then. Six weeks of anticipation, early mornings and tired evenings. Thrills, disappointments, near misses, glorious triumphs. Groans from the wife – “Not another one?” Shared moments with the grandsons, but not a single score missed. And now the last day: early breakfast at the club with friends. Can we do it? Was it possible to make history? And then, it was all over: a series draw. Time to go home. Sigh: four years till the next Lions tour.