Self-plotted path

Daddy brushed his new suit, his heart swelling with pride.

“Get the phone and stop worshipping that ‘idol’,” his wife, Diana, chided him. Immersed in his thoughts, George didn’t hear her.

“Dana, I love you! Whatever it is, tell me.” Diana said into the phone.

“Calling from Africa?

“An epiphany?  Epiphany’s about church, something good … not this!

“Three semesters ago?”

“No degree!”

“You said you’d do WHAT?”

Painful screams pierced through George’s musing. He spun around. Diana was lying in a clumsy heap on the floor andBlack phone handset hanging on cord from the hanging telephone receiver he heard desperate, distant shouts of ‘Mum’.

(P.S.  Remember I said I wanted to see if I have a creative writing cell within me. To do so,  I am answering a challenge to write a 100 -word piece that contains, “You said you’d do WHAT?” Tell me how you think I am doing. Criticise me, laugh at or with me but please tell me your reaction. I am listening! Thanks!)