I was very late submitting my attempt last week and Friday Fictioneers wait for no woman, or man!
My grandmother told me many tales; some she made up, some she promised were true. In any event she should have written them down. She told me about the lamplighter and that my great grandfather liked to drink …
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields lights the path to Friday Fictioneers and we all follow as best we can. Thanks to her for the photo this week.
Word Count: 100
Granny told us many stories of the lamplighter. He lit the gas lamps in her town so folks could see their way home, or in her father’s case, to the alehouse. One night her father didn’t stagger home. They found him next morning face down in the stream, his jug still clutched in his hand.
Many supportive neighbours and a few of his drinking friends attended his funeral. My great grandmother baked all night, then lit the parlour lamps and held a wake, relaxing in her new found freedom, released from toil and childbearing.
She never mentioned his name again.
For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And oh! before you hurry by with ladder and with light;
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!
(from The Lamplighter – Robert Louis Stevenson)