Note from the author: This is a piece that I wrote for a flash fiction competition. I had 48 hours to complete a piece that was up to 500 words.

The criteria was as follows;

     Each story had to include a character who revisits something.

     Each story had to include the same colour in its first and last sentence.

     Each story had to include the words CAMP, FAST and SPARK.

The old man lifted his tired, gnarled hand and drew

     the faded blue jacket closer about his shoulders. Nothing much kept out the cold, especially the sort that came from the inside of him. Each day, it took root a little deeper. The spark of his life was fading, but his mind was still sharp, and his memories cocooned him. They were camped in the valleys of his mind, and when he shed this useless body and crossed over, his memories would fly him to the great beyond.

     "Grandpa?" He tore himself from his daydreams and smiled. At 6, Elsie was his youngest Great-Granddaughter and easily his favourite. She dragged her Mother in to see him on Mondays, Thursdays, and most weekends. She climbed the stool and, as always, took his hand.

     "How's…" He cleared his throat. "How's my girl?"

     "Good Grandpa. We made origami today. Mark told me my crane looked like an alien, so I shoved it into his mouth."

     Grandpa threw back his head and laughed a laugh that sent a lifetime of wrinkles dancing across his face. "That, Miss Elsie, is exactly what you do to naughty boys. Just make sure you don't get caught."

     Her Mother coughed. "Elsie Jane, that's not what good girls do!"

     Grandpa lifted an eyebrow. "Eleanor Anne Smith, I remember another 6-year-old who put wet paint on her teacher's chair and tied the boy's shoelaces together."

     Elsie's eyes grew wide. "Really Grandpa? And who was that?"