Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

A Call from the Mall

When she got to the mall she drove at a crawl
looking for somewhere to park.
She’d been at home and had answered the phone
the manager’s voice sounded dark.
Her heart filled with dread just as soon as he said,
'I’ve a lad here who calls himself Shark'.
At the mall so it seems, the son of her dreams
had been having a bit of a lark.
What had been done, although just for fun
would have been quite OK in the park.
But tossing a ball in the mall’s central hall
had plunged them all into the dark.
Though the damage was slight it had fused every light
by causing some kind of a spark.
A guard grabbed the boy that he saw with the toy
not waiting to hear his remark,
'But the ball isn’t mine,' he continued to whine
as he was taken upstairs to the clerk.
And that was the truth, for that sad hapless youth
was a victim of circumstance stark.
Though he’d picked up the ball in the mall central hall
it was thrown by someone called Mark.
At last they believed, and his Mum was relieved
though her legs felt all shaky like quark.

I think now’s the time to finish this rhyme,
I’ve run out of words that will

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