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Weekly Contest #35
ONE It was an hour before my enforced bedtime. My mother and future mother in-law had overtaken my house insisting my last single evening be as comfortable as possible—translation. Absolute hell. I was to marry the handsome Robert at a lavish spring wedding tomorrow, all sounded wonderful. Like a spring lamb to the slaughter. Not everything is as it seems—the mothers were here to ensure I showed up at the church. “An early night would be good for you Emelia, you have to be up at the crack of dawn dear, so you can beautify yourself.” My futu...
Weekly Contest #33
Eddyth Whistlepooth’s girth didn’t assist him as he tried in vain to lower himself into the narrow park bench. He huffed crossly, wiggled a bit one way and then the other, but finally he was forced to concede that the bench was of faulty design. Eddy, as he liked to be known, had always been on the plump side and at fifty-six-years young he was quite proud of it. After all, stout Irish Gnomes from good blood-lines were well thought off by the feminine sort, especially those stout Irish Gnomes who lived reasonably high off the hog, which he d...
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