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Little Mo is well-known in these parts.

We’ve all seen her, even Lighterman Roberts with his tricorn hat and air of disdain. He won’t admit it, won’t confess to a sighting of the supernatural, but I’ve heard him as he walks down the streets, lighting the lamps at dusk-fall. He claims to be talking to his dog, a grizzled lurcher by the name of Mutt. In public, and especially when he’s in his cups, he treats that poor animal like dirt. There’s no way he’d bill and coo at Mutt as if he was wooing a lady. No, he’s seen Little Mo alright, and I fancy she tippy-toes alongside him in the cobbled streets every night.

She came to a dark end, did Little Mo. She was Captain de Riviera’s youngest daughter. He spoiled her so, and she got to thinking she could charm the birds off the trees. Instead, all she charmed was a feckless youth from our mean streets, teasing him with her fancy ways. It was enough to drive a poor young man wild.

That’s what Lighterman Roberts tells her, anyway.

I reckon he knows all about Little Mo. and I reckon she deserved it.

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Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare.

I hope you enjoy this week’s tale – I’ve tied it in with my Five Sentence Fiction entry this week, where you just might get to hear Little Mo’s side of the story!

Please do visit VisDare for amazing poetry and prose!