At first she liked the way the villagers stared at her. And when the offerings began - flowers, gold, wine dropped on her doorstep - she thought she had it made. That is, until the morning they left a baby for her. A thousand shutting doors met her roar for help.
6 comments:
Think yourself lucky they're not gnomes, her mother had said. She hated gnomes. When they'd moved in, Sadie thought how lovely and unusual the concrete, handmade mushrooms were. One year into the marriage and they'd become dirty, grey and mouldy and she saw them for what they were. Poisonous toadstools.
Oooh Sarah... nice (not sure of 'dropped' for that wine on her doorstep or that 'roar')... but the set up for this is so good... so achey.
I have been away fro three days and I come back and find you have all been so busy and now I am playing 'catch-up'
:-)
D
Dragonflies on sticks and butterflies and windmill propellers. The sticks stuck into the ground where only grass grows. Maybe michaelmas daisies in the early summer all leggy stems and small faces. Arabella on her back in the garden. Looks up and makes believe she is shrunk small as a bug.
'It's not our problem' the villagers whispered behind her turned back. 'Fancy bringing a baby here, of all places and not informing any of us!' but she knew deep down it was one of them, one of them was responsible for this pink bundle of flesh that had screamed on her doorstep that morning waking her from sleep. She would find out who was responsible even if it took her years!
Gemma - 50 words, not 70... but nice continuation of Sarah's piece.
D
Sorry Douglas got a bit carried away!!!
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