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Fairytales #6

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The sirens disappearing roused me as I woke up in a bed. And I tried to get up but my legs wouldn't work and I fell, and as the noise shook through the house I heard soft footsteps up the stairs.

The son opened the door. He was in his mid forties. A benevolent smile underneath the ragged mass of facial hair until he spoke and it twisted to a sneer. My own words wouldn't form. My tongue large, disobedient I'd been drugged by the monster's feral child.

"You hurt my daddy."

He smelled flowery, sweet.

It churned my insides.

4 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 2 years ago

    There's part of me really doesn't want to read the last one. Mainly because of his smell, an inspired touch.

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams over 2 years ago

    Ah glad you noticed- do think you can say a lot with a smell X

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 2 years ago

    That's true. I think because we don't often recall smells (at least not as often as sight and sound) but the ones we do recall stay with us and carry more impact. Also, that smell on that person is quite disturbing.
    Lol, sometimes I think I could write an essay on some of your drabbles Lisa :)

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams over 2 years ago

    I have 'dog nose' so tend use scent a lot in stories. Yes.

    And Ha! It's always lovely to hear your thoughts Drew. Really appreciate your time xx

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