PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman
The dresses hung pale from the trading post ceiling like angels descending, frozen in mid-fall. That fascinated and scared Padraig. The boy would lie, staring up at the reverse heaven of tables and chairs suspended from the roof. Until Ulrich found him in some fragrant corner, and shooed him back to work.
Padraig served. “Wire and nails, Mr. Johannsen.”
“Yes, Mrs. Franklin, one rolling pin.”
Ulrich had whatever you wanted. Until the whiskered stranger arrived.
“A diving compressor,” he demanded.
The shop seemed to shudder, and an angel fluttered to earth. Padraig hiked out the door into bright sunlight.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find It here.