The world of writing is a bit like busses. Nothing for a ages and then three things come along all at once. Or sometimes four.
The Incredible Hulk stood on Sarah’s doorstep, staring down at her.
“A deal’s a deal, luv,” he said. “I shook hands with your husband. We agreed. If you don’t give me the dough in the next two hours, this builder isn’t rising to the job.”
The clock in the servant’s hallway chimed six. Havers bent down and picked up the middle of the three highly-polished, black pair of brogues lined up against the wood panelled wall. His eyes lingered on the pair to the right. Mr Birks’ shoes. As Head Butler, Birks’ shoes were a more ornate than Havers’. The stitched-patterning extended around the side of the shoe, whereas Havers’ shoes only had decoration above the toes. In this world, everything reflected one’s position.
“Morning, Mr Havers. Not a problem with your shoes, is there? I worked hard on cleaning those, I did.”
The Weekly News
Laura hated weddings, and so did Zac.
The Weekly News (UK), That’s Life Fast Fiction (Australia)
George was always the one preaching restraint …
“It’s a good life, if you don’t weaken.”
Every time my George issues those words, my resolve to kill him strengthens. He has only been out of hospital for 3 days and I’m run ragged even more than before. He’s been told to take things easy following his sudden collapse last week. So he has. Literally. Just when I thought I’d found five minutes to myself, and was about to bite into one of my favourite naughties …