photo credit: Managua Gunn
“Can you do this?” asks the girl, touching a lollipop-stained tongue to her freckled nose.
Lance-Sergeant Blackwood, who can kill with his bare hands, grits his teeth and studies a nervous man amongst the tourists. His rucksack is oddly packed.
“Is that alive?” the girl persists, pointing at Blackwood’s bearskin.
Blackwood’s eyes flick towards his colleague. Has Lucas spotted him?
Now the rucksack is on the ground, flap open, revealing a glint of metal. Both Foot Guards step forward, battle ready, and the flustered street hawker scrambles away, trailing fake watches like expensive breadcrumbs.
“I made them move!” shrieks the girl in delight.
As you can see, the guard in the picture has no Bearskin Cap, but I was reminded of a trip to London when the girls were small, and how impressed they were with the impassive Guards in their fluffy fur hats, who gamely ignored flocks of tourists desperate to get them to move!
This story was written for the Friday Fictioneers, as hosted on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ site. Click the smiley blue guy to read more stories from other authors.