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Weekly Contest #105
“Sit up straight, Paul-o!” I tapped my quill in front of Paul playfully. He giggled but sat up as straight as his little back could go as his mother, the queen, walked by. My smile, painted on for little Paul’s sake, hid a bitterness in my mind. How could turn her nose up at her own son? She never cared much for any of her children, just for their father, or, more accurately, the power he held. I saw Paul shrink just a little bit under his mother’s gaze, his smile faltering. But he fixed it quickly. He was able to because he knew I was smili...
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