This week we were given two random numbers, a good number and a bad one. The numbers equalled to something on a list and we had to write 500 words. I chose my good number which lead me to: retired happily. So I made a story about Ted. It was weird writing him because I usually write fantasy, and Ted is as far from that as possible. 

Ted

Ted had had a grand old life when he thought about it. When he was a child he’d been a farm hand and looked after the chickens, he missed them when he had to move on. He’d been in one of those wars too young, seen a lot of terrible things and lived to tell the tale. He’d won a commendation for his bravery, a fluke really, he was just in the right place at the right time. Then he’d married the woman of his dreams, moved into one of those dream style white picket fence type houses. He’d had children and grandchildren and he suspected some great grandchildren were on their way.

Ted had been fortunate enough to have a successful business career, he wasn’t a top dog but he was close enough. Most of the money he made, he put away for safe keeping, the years following the war had made him want to prepare for the life of future generations rather than splash out on himself.

Margret, his wife, had passed some years ago. Theirs was a romantic match, a ‘love at first sight’ scenario. She’d worked as a secretary for the firm he worked for, once he’d seen her he couldn’t just let her walk away. Ted bought her flowers, chocolates, took her out dancing, to the movies but she was always playing hard to get.

She kept him on his toes for three months before she put him out of his misery. Always a laugh was Margret, they married a year later. A few years passed before their first child arrived and then it seemed like children were popping out left right and centre. It seemed Margret had a thing for flower names, to this day Ted still cringes slighting upon calling his daughters; Poppy, Pansy and Petunia.

His wife was not going to be swayed on naming the girls, Ted got to pick the name of their only son, and he called him Ted the Second. It was tradition in his family that the first son always got the name of the father. Needless to say Margret wasn’t happy with this choice of name, in the years to come she would always get annoyed when calling out ‘Ted’ and having two people look at her.

Life slowed down after the children grew up, times were changing, televisions weren’t something rare anymore, music influenced a generation of people and rationing was finally over. Ted took up hobbies, gardening, odd jobs, and reading. Life was getting boring; the kids had all grown up, married and had children of their own.

Margret passed on a sunny afternoon; it was very peaceful, she died with a smile.

Now Ted was making a new change in his life, he’d retired from the business many years ago but now he was too old to remain in the large house he’d bought when he first got married. He was going into a retirement home; he didn’t think of it as a bad thing, he was rather excited about the prospect of being waited on hand and foot.

He was retiring happily and the home said they’d get him some chickens so he could relive the enjoyment of his youth. Life was good for Ted. He couldn’t wait to see the future.