Bob Tambourine and his kaftan-clad wife, Windsock, loved their crooked little stone house. Bob had built it himself (you could tell). Their daughter, Cinnamon Sky, was less enamoured. She craved normal things like matching plates, burgers made with meat not lentils, running water, electricity, clothes with the price tags on and food that comes in cellophane packets.
But most of all, thought Cinnamon Sky, as she squatted in the dark outside, most of all I want a toilet. Indoors. With a seat. And a flush. Cinnamon smiled at the thought, and then sighed as she accidentally peed on her toes.
(100 words – no cheating this week!)
Written for Friday Fiction – click the link below to see what other writers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.