Ralph swiped at what little hair remained on his scalp. He leaned back from the kitchen table to give a little breathing space to his growing, middle-aged belly. He glowered at his children after hearing the news.
Holly, the eleven-year old looked out the kitchen window. Robbie gazed unhappily at the pyramid, marked with magical symbols, that sat upon the permanent jelly stains on the Formica surface. Ralph glared at the children, then at the magic pyramid, then back at the children.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” said Ralph.
Holly twisted the ribbons that bound her pony tail. “Dad. It was going to happen anyway. We just helped.”
“Sweetie, people need the right to choose.”
“It was written in the stars, Dad,” explained Robbie.
Where did he get that? wondered Ralph.
Holly hid a smirk.
The widower sighed. “Now I have to break it off with Olivia.”
“No!” chorused the children.
“I have to,” whined Ralph. “You’ve forced love, so how can I know it’s real? You see, you can’t go casting love spells on people with magic pyramids, especially on your own dad! This love isn’t a real love.”
“Is too!” exclaimed Robbie. “Even before, you guys were all gooey-gooey eyes an’ stuff. You were just too shy.” Holly nodded vigorously in agreement. The two children fist-bumped.
Just then, Olivia walked in carrying groceries. She gazed at Ralph and sighed elatedly. Ralph’s stern gaze melted into a silly grin. “My darling!” He embraced her.
“My beautiful man!” said Olivia. Her mousy hair, always in disarray, became worse as she held him.
“My petunia!” Ralph kissed her with vigor. “You’ve been gone too long, my love!”
“I know!” husked Olivia between kisses. “Ten minutes at the market is too long away from YOU!”
Olivia squeaked as Ralph picked her up. He stopped before carrying her into the bedroom. “Children, we’ll talk more…” He paused to gaze into Olivia’s eyes, past her thick glasses. “Uh…after.”
After the lovers departed, Robbie said. “We should tell him.”
“I know,” said Holly. “Later, though. Maybe our love spell didn’t work, but they’re still under a spell!
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. Each week, Alastair Forbes casts a magic spell, with an original photograph, that entices us all to write flash fiction based upon it. Anyone can join in, so why don’t you? Look here to see what others wrote: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/sunday-photo-fiction-august-2nd-2015/