Sharon’s note: The last of a string of challenge pieces. The first and last lines were given to me, and I had to fill in the middle with a word limit. One of the hardest challenges I’ve ever done. I loved it. Warning: Just a little bit of madness.
As the clock struck midnight, she found herself standing alone in front of the abandoned carnival with a mysterious key in her hand. She pocketed it for her collection. Had to hurry. If she was late to this tea party, she could loose her head.
Recent rain had left the asphalt path with a slimy coating of mud. Tin sides of trailers were decorated with ripple patterns of rust like blots of blood. Artistic, if you were of a mood. She was not.
Their party was seated beneath a white tent that was turning green with mildew. Pigeons slept in the rigging above, their guano coating the ground so thick the sisterhood was laying out blankets to sit in picnic fashion. It stank like a swamp. Next year, she was choosing the venue.
She sat with a group of sisters who all wore outlandish hats. If she knew them from last year, she didn’t remember. That was normal for her. Memories were slippery fish.
She drank oolong, ate sandwiches filled with a raw meat she couldn’t name, and debated the relevancy of bonnets until the speaker ascended the stage. A fine lady with rings on her fingers, bells on her toes, and sorrowful music wherever she goes.
A few stragglers hurried to finish their conversations before the speaker began. As she sipped her tea, the woman with the bright red hat turned to her and said, ”Beware the pigeons, for they carry secrets that even the winds cannot whisper.”
Gray Matters: The Works of Sharon and James Gray 