My twin sister Lucy was the exact opposite to me in her approach to life – it’s like she was sprinkled with glittering fairy dust when she was a baby, whilst I just had dust chucked in my face.
She only had to smile and she got the boyfriend, the engagement ring, the wedding, the perfect children – everything has been handed to her on a plate.
But now, well, it’s become plain that my somewhat pessimistic approach to life has finally paid off, although please understand that I don’t find any satisfaction in vindication – honestly.
They warned us that the new species of magnolia had mutated, that poison lurked in its pollen and on no account should we even think about sniffing the flowers and their glorious, alluring scent.
She couldn’t believe that something so beautiful could be a killer – those were her very, last words.
Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. I have no idea where I got this tale of sinister tale of envy from… I’m not even feeling particularly dark today! Please do pop over to her blog and read the other submissions – no two will be alike!
“It’s simply not fair, Mother. She looks so elegant in that stupid, simple dress. I must have one exactly like it, made out of silk, rather than cotton.”
“Philomena, you will not ask Madame Reynaud for another dress. That poor woman has worked her fingers to the bone as it is.”
Philomena threw her fine lace shawl to the floor in disgust. “Only because you allowed her to make an outfit for that tramp as well!”
Lady Fawcett grasped her daughter firmly by the shoulder angrily. “You need to learn that graciousness and manners are what makes Eloise beautiful, not her dress. I am sad to say that you could wear her clothes all day long and you would never look as radiant as your step-sister.”
Blunt words they may have been, but Lady Fawcett feared that they had fallen on deaf ears. Her daughter was already too far gone.
Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. I saw an element of competiton in this photo, with each of the ladies trying to float higher than the others! Please do pop over to her blog and read the other submissions – no two will be alike!
He had decided he was sick and tired of flying around serenely. He was bored of ice white, apple white, glacier white, white-on-white. He needed a bit of colour in his life. And he was totally fed up of all the sweet, choral singing in the background. He needed noise, raised voices, arguments, drunken laughter and passion.
Of course, once he had slipped out the back door, he realised his mistake. It was cold down here, people couldn’t help pointing and laughing at him, one boy even called him a nutter and he had forgotten that down here, if he wanted to eat, he needed money, or to steal.
So, here he was, hiding behind a vast pillar in a spacious courtyard. And none of the angels here wanted to talk to him, nor did they move a muscle.
He wanted to go home.
Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. A bit cheeky, but why not?