Posted in fiction, Saturday, Six Sentence Stories, Uncategorized

Saturday, in the rough…

The Masters


His best friend, and caddy, handed him the club with a smile and a thumbs up. He shifted his feet, adjusted his grip and concentrating on the ball he settled himself at the tee.  His swing was smooth and powerful lifting the ball and sending it sailing straight down the fairway to the eighteenth hole and the championship.  The wind picked up, not a lot, hardly noticeable really, but enough to move the ball to the left and away from the flag.  It came down and bounced on the edge of the green and rolled into the rough.  No green jacket for him this year.

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The prompt this week is rough.


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