The Fawn and the Turtles (7)
Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
Troubled, Rnfl made a seventeen point turn and vanished into the underbrush, nearby the combover. They were troubled. Oh, wait, I said that already.
Strain as she might, Tamsin couldn't catch the voice she had heard previously, the one speaking of a power from above. Who had it been? Her little rabbit friend Bumper? The clutch of opossums? A clairvoyant myna bird from Brattleboro?
She had not caught the scent of anyone nearby at the time, despite Cornflaps' presence. The truth was, let me assure you, that the fawn had lost her sense of smell overnight. And as we have learned, she had even lost her body weight entirely. Her mind and her body were drifting now as she contemplated the mysteries teeming around in her head like a mad charioteer zonked out on Ny-Quil and forgetting to employ his blinker. She felt dizzy. Dizzy felt her back. It was all very strange.
But the puzzles were to continue for at least three more installments before she could give her quivery mind a break.
For the turtles were back.
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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Watching from a distance, Cornflap studied the perplexed deerling, not even a yearling yet. With the…The Fawn and the Turtles (6)
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