It was a breezy Thursday night, when Charles realised just what it was that he had forgotten. It was nothing big, but, should it be left undealt with, it could become rather serious.
Charles had forgotten his notebook.
Now to you, dear reader, this might not seem much of an inconvenience, but to Charles, this was a rather big problem. He needed his notes to find his way around London. Yes, he could buy a map, however a map sold on the streets of London cannot compare to a map drawn by his wife in a notebook. He thought through a thousand different ways to return to Bristol to retrieve his notebook, but reluctantly decided that he would have to purchase one on the streets. He decided that at the crack of dawn, he would leave the room of the inn he was staying at, and take to the streets to purchase a map.
As he climbed into his bed, Charles wondered how he could have forgotten something so important. His own dear wife had spent an hour drawing that! She had even purchased an over-priced map of London so that she could copy it. The more Charles thought, the more guilt he felt, before finally falling asleep.
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This was a short story I found while scrolling through my notes on my phone it was written in June 2015, and I honestly have no idea why I wrote it. I quite like it though. I t has no name, so, for now, I'm calling it "the notebook".
... It's not a very good name.
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One-shots and such
RandomA collection of stories that I came up with out of nowhere, writing prompts, and some stories I've published that have never been finished. If I like them or if anyone reads these and likes them, I might make them into full stories, but it seems a b...
