“Charmed, I’m sure.” Lady Charlotte’s words dripped acid. Even someone as dense as Lord Bernard felt their burn, and squirmed. He attempted what he probably thought was a rakish grin. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I’ve come to steal Miss Anya away.” Anya flicked her fan open and grimaced at her cousin …
A new solo RPG - this is the introduction. The instalments, as they come, are prompted by tarot cards. Her Majesty has asked me to keep record of the travellers who spend a night beneath my roof. She says it would be useful. Helpful even. I don't know about that but she's a good girl, …
Misty dashed across the room, chasing the end of the ribbon Byron was flicking about. Reba was fairly sure the giggling farm girl who’d gifted him her apple-red ribbon at their last stopping point did not have this fate in mind for it. Or maybe she did, she cooed over the snarling kitten as so …
A woman inherits a house from her estranged grandmother. Upon entering the house, she discovers a secret room. Describe the room. (note: I got nowhere near the point of describing the room...) I barely knew I had a grandmother. Mum hated her with a passion. Mum hates a lot of people, including me. Either way, …
Byron’s new cat crouched in the corner of their inn room and growled. It had been fine until the inn’s serving girl had waltzed in with (barely) warm washing water and a request to. “See the sweet little kitty.” Byron had nodded to his bed, where the cat, named Misty for reasons beyond Reba’s understanding, …
“It’s a clue!” Emma withered Stephanie with a look. “It’s an Easter egg hunt, it doesn’t have clues, it has chocolate.” Stephanie remained annoyingly unwithered. “Maybe for you, my Mum likes to put a twist on things.” Of course she did, Stephanie’s mum was one of those parents who did ‘enriching activities’ after school and …
A quiet day today, my only excitement was a lively debate with Sir Scutterscarry, a mouse with delusions of chivalry who lives in the potting shed. He is something of a cheesie, which is a foodie, but – well – you can guess which particular type of food he focuses on. It seems this week’s …
They were camping that night, set up in a roadside clearing used by trade caravans who’s plodding horses and bulky wagons couldn’t make the full run through the forest between dawn and dusk. It was a large clearing with a well-worn path to a wide, clear stream nearby. Tonight, the clearing was empty of everyone …
I was in my office (upstairs, computer, back door) when Sarah, the twelve-year-old from the Holmeshallow Farm family came pelting up the driveway. Unusual. She used to be running and skidding everywhere but got in with a new crowd at school, I’m told, and now it’s all about ‘the look’ and never being enthusiastic. I …
Anya’s mother poked her in the back. “Go and greet your favourite cousin.” “How can she be my favourite cousin when she’s barely one at all? She’s some sort of fifth cousin, twice removed; and claiming we’re related will make me look like the worst sort of encroaching mushroom.” Lady Charlotte Fontenbras, granddaughter of the …
The DNA of Stories 