|Found on Google Images|
FLASH FICTION PROMPT
It was the worst rendition of Peer's Haughe, he'd ever heard.
But the earnestness in which the child was singing simply vanished all purpose and intent to ruin the moment.
His head and ears throbbed for several long moments afterwards and when it was through, the Tester wasn't quite sure how to handle the young couple's expectant faces. He looked from the toddler to the mother, to the father and then back at the little boy.
He closed his eyes, folded his hands and took a deep breath.
When he opened his eyes, the smile was fixed, force and polite. "A banshee." He said, thinly. "I believe you have a banshee."
The happy parents practically danced out of the testing office, squealing over their good fortune as they left.
He sighed at the now empty office and thumped his head on the hardwood desk. "Human parents." He muttered. "Idiotic human parents, the boy can't be a banshee unless his mother is part--" the stack of paperwork slipped off the desk and fell to the floor.
Worst rendition ever.
How could be so hard to sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?
(c) Sara Harricharan