Happy Friday! It’s time for another installment in Frisky Friday Flash Fiction. You know the drill. I provide a picture and the first lines of a story (300 words maximum). You get the opportunity to provide the rest. I’ll post the full story the following week.
Let’s look back at last week’s story (it’s a tad longer than 300 words):
“The Legend of the Weeping Willow”
There’s a reason villagers don’t go into the woods. Between the massive trunks and twisted limbs is a lost soul. Someone stole her life many years ago. She haunts the forest waiting for the one who did her wrong. If you listen closely, on a windy day, you might hear her groan his name.
Edward Stilton was the man who claimed the light from Penelope’s eyes. She was a poor, servant girl, and he was a member of the ruling class. Each day they met in the woods away from unapproving eyes.
“This has to stop, Penny,” Edward announced and fastened his britches.
“I don’t understand.” Penelope gathered her dress about her shoulders and closed the laces. “Have you tired of me already?”
“It’s not like that, Penny.” He turned his head away. “I’m getting married. Laying with you wouldn’t be right.”
The woman couldn’t believe her ears. Now, Edward was concerned about doing what was right? He never thought about it when his cock ached. She took care of his needs, no matter the time of day or night, without complaint. Penelope narrowed her dark eyes.
“Have you forgotten who I am?” she snarled.
Edward’s cheeks reddened. “A woman who needs to remember her place in this world.”
“Don’t you dare pull that privilege bullshit with me!” Incantations began to fill her mind. “You will pay for this, Edward!”
Penelope stood toe to toe with him. He began to regret their time together. It was time to go.
Edward stalked over to his horse with Penelope hot on his heels. She grabbed his arm and tugged. The man, not realizing his own strength, pushed her away.
A loud, crunching noise filled the woods. Penelope, her body at an odd angle, lay beneath the huge tree.
Edward’s heart plummeted. What had he done? He couldn’t risk taking her back to the house, though. So, he buried her, using his bare hands, beneath the tree.
Grass ceased to grow in the spot. In winter, ice would not form there. The trees took on an odd bend with leaves that hung to the ground. And at night, the villagers swore a woman in a raggedy white dress appeared on the road.
And now for this week’s story:
“That’s right. Kiss my hand. Grovel at my feet. This is my kingdom now. And you will do whatever I desire.”
“Yes, my queen.”
What else could the man say? Queen Araña enchanted him along with everyone in the kingdom.