Father and Son

arena

 

 

 

 

Copyright C. E. Ayr

“Where are all these people going, dad?”
“They’re all going to the match.”
“All of them?”
The boy beamed.
He stopped before a stall glittering with enamel badges and draped with scarves and hats in the famous Royal Blue.
“Can I get a badge, dad?”
“And a hot dog, son.”
They filed through clacking Victorian turnstiles into the buzzing stadium. Climbing the steps they found their seats. The tannoyed music blared the team’s entrance. A shrill whistle blew. The crowd erupted in one almighty roar.
Choking back tears the father looked at the awestruck boy and remembered his first time.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

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38 thoughts on “Father and Son

  1. Thanks Rochelle, I wanted to get the idea of history, ritual and father handing down to son, generation to generation.

    Like

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