Time for Friday Fictioneers, a 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. Follow the link and join in, go on I dare you….


Photo Copyright : Mary Shipman

Hope’s Haberdashers had been in town as long as anyone could remember and no matter who you asked, whatever age, Agatha Hope had always been there. She always asked after family, remembered everyone’s names, even those you’d forgotten yourself. Walking into the shop always felt like coming home.

It smelt of cedar and oak, of lavender and clementine. Made you want to reach out and touch things, feel the textures on your skin. All the while Mrs Hope sat on a three-leg stool in a corner of the shop and smiled.

You might carry your worries in, but you always left with hope.

15 thoughts on “Hope

  1. Sounds just like my kind of shop, if only we could have a Agatha Hope in every shop. I rather like the way you put this story together. Mike

  2. A beautiful evocation of the power of certain places to touch something in us. Textures, fragrances, a sense of calmness – there are places like that. And Agnes is the icing on the cake.

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