A SHORT STORY
Given
the lengthening list of writers desperately wanting to win The 2016 Sunday
Times Short Story Prize of £30,000, I’m getting my entry in early to avoid
disappointment.
Once upon a time on a dark and
stormy night, a big black crow flew over a wicked witch in the woods stirring
her cauldron with curses. Unbeknownst to
anyone but the witch, a beautiful damsel in distress with flaxen hair and a
fair turn of ankle was running desperately through the woods in her thorn-torn diaphanous
white nightdress. She became more
distressed and ran even faster on hearing the sound of heavy breathing
thundering up behind her, whereupon she tripped over a frog waving a magic
wand.
As she picked herself up, but
feeling quite faint, she fell straight into the strong arms of a tall dark
handsome highwayman, who had been galloping home on his horse after robbing the
rich to give to the poor.
Her prince had come, well almost. He put his pistol to one side and swiftly
lifted her up onto his steaming steed. She blew a big kiss to the frog and then
wanted to reward the highwayman for coming to her rescue. But she had no money, jewels or valuables
except a precious little empty velvet purse which she always kept for
comfort.
So for saving her from the wicked
witch’s curse, she could only pledge her troth to the highwayman, and perhaps
her velvet purse, for his princely plunder at the stroke of twelve or as soon
as the moon was high, but no later than the cock crows.
Meanwhile, the people in the village
were as snug as bugs in rugs, sleeping soundly in their warm and cosy
beds. So no-one noticed the dark and
stormy night life, not even the gamekeeper out hunting for hairy hobgoblins.
In the morning, with the dawning of the milkman, the sun shone brightly
on frosted gossamer webs and over the fields forests hills rivers and
meadows. The birds were singing their
sweet songs, and everyone lived happily ever after.
Well, how short does it have to be?
A heart-warming story, Michael. I'd read it to my granddaughters but I fear they might spot the double-entendres seeded liberally throughout it. You must tell me next week if the crow managed to hook up with the wicked witch.
ReplyDelete