That Drabble I Promised

Now that M. the Uber-Geek has fixed my editor, here’s that drabble containing Mr Lynch’s chosen words. I’m afraid it’s neither funny nor Art:

Let God Decide

Sylvia straightened, turned, and walked back towards the house. She should clean herself up before James returned.

Her husband’s experiments had failed to uncover the nature of the tiny, twisted bodies they had found on the moor. He said they were organic beings, but when she had asked if that meant they were God’s creatures, he’d looked away. Science failed again, but as ever, prayer had provided the answer.

A smell like singed bacon lingered over the garden. Fortunately James’s notes had posed less of a problem than the subjects themselves. Behind her, fire consumed the last sheet of paper.

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

@JaineFenn

  • One of the most impressive sets of short stories I've read recently: ,
  • RT : OUMUAMUA: A Fiction by ,
  • First run out for provisions after relocating comes with an auspicious omen ,
  • First weekend (sort of) living in the West Country: spoken to many workmen (two of whom turned out to be mortal enemies, amusingly), viewed and discussed much Stuff to go in house once we finally own it and followed on Twitter.,
  • After 28 years living in Hampshire I've headed West. I'm currently of No Fixed Abode pending a house purchase, while residing in Devon. Unfortunately, most of my clothes are in Cornwall.,