Robin believes everyone needs a place to call their own.
Somewhere away from city folk and their incessant screaming, their clutching hands hanging onto their miserable existences.
Robin wonders if anything can compare with climbing the hillside at the end of an exhausting yet exhilarating day and thankfully laying down your burden.
He says every man needs somewhere to put his feet up, a place to lay the head.
So he reaches his allotment, sighs with relief and thanks the stars above for this, his own space.
He glances at the shelves by his door.
Now… where to lay this head?
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A rehash of a story from over eight years ago, in the absence of any inspiration once again. Grateful thanks to someone never short of inspiration, the leader of Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
castelsarrasin 
Wicked Robin, he needs to see a psychiatrist, they might shrink his heads.
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There’d certainly be more space on his shelves. Thanks for reading.
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I hope that’s a head of lettuce, but somehow I don’t think it is
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Nope. It certainly isn’t. Thanks for reading.
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Dear Sandra,
Robin sounds like a simple man with uncomplicated desires. Love the voice. (Nothing wrong with a rehash 😉 )
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Simple enough to get what he wants, get away with it, and get home again. Thanks for reading Rochelle. 🙂
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I immediately pictured him placing a head–anyone’s head–on a shelf, with the rest of his collection.
Don’t know why I had such a dark thought!
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Thanks for reading, Linda.
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I was going to leave a comment about the simple things in life. But that final line is a killer.
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No coming back from it, for sure. Thanks for reading.
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Oh dear!!
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Indeed. Thanks for reading.
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Masterfully built, as usual Sandra. Sounds like his shelves are getting a bit full.
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Thanks for reading Jen. Yes, he’ll soon be doing ‘special offers’. See what I did there?
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Sounds so idyllic and is revealed to be shockingly gruesome. (If I read it right.)
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You did indeed read it right. Thank you, Lisa.
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Ah, good! I mean, bad. Aw gee, you know what I mean. You are very welcome.
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I am glad to hear he found a place to stay at his allotment.
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I think his victims probably didn’t share his relief.
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That took an unexpected, and grizzly turn. An unusual surprise, most welcome!
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Thanks for reading, Iain.
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Nasty bit of work…
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Thanks for reading, Sue. 🙂
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Pleasure
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You always give a us great read, Sandra.
Isadora 😎
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Aw thanks Isadora.
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Since I did not read it the first time round, it’s a new story to me. Nicely done, Sandra, then and now.
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Many thanks Bill.
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Whoops. That last line threw me right out of my feel-good zone.
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Aaah, sorry about that. 🙂 Thanks for reading.
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A man cave with a difference. What a twist!
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🙂 I think he was probably Head Boy at school. Thanks for reading.
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it’s only human to need space. otherwise, we go insane. 🙂
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Though some people would prefer it if the space were not above their shoulders. Thanks for reading.
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Yep, everyone needs a hobby to escape from their daily drudgery. But collecting heads! Does he shrink them? Mind you, pulling weeds in the allotment is not as much fun.
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Oh my word! That was a shocker!
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Thanks for reading, Liz. I tried to return your visit but the link isn’t working.
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I very much enjoyed the build up to the shocking end! Great twist, Sandra.
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Thank you Brenda, glad you liked it.
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He’s doing a public service perhaps – putting an end to the ‘miserable existence’ of some of the city folk. Such a surprise twist at the end. Phew. Loved it.
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I like a girl who thinks the best of everyone. 🙂
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Only on my second reading did I realise that waitaminute… it’s not that he has less space for his OWN head to rest… You are so wicked!
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You have me wondering why he collects heads! quite a twist that one.
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That last line was so unexpected, I didn’t read it right the first time. I was imagining him looking for a place to sleep. That was a doozy of an ending. That’s the problem with growing collections, eventually one runs out of space.
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