“Look at me, mum!” The young boy sang out as he reached the top of the hill. “I am just like him, I am liked that Jack from the fairytale!”
The mother laughed as she watched her son dip his bucket into the well. “That is a nursery rhyme rather than a fairytale. Anyway, you don’t want to be anything like him because he ended up falling down and breaking his crown. Not a good thing for little boys.”
“Remember, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.”
“Was he a prince?”
The mother shook her head with a snort of a laugh. “Hardly! It means he broke his head.”
“I am much more careful than that.”
Jill followed behind him trying to forget the image of watching her brother fall never to get up again. It had been a long time since she last came up the hill. She could still see the remains of a spade she had smacked him with so he fell.
He should never have tried to force her to marry so he could get money.
Written for Sunday photo fiction