by Michael Seese
In case you had not heard, there was a football game on TV yesterday. So between getting the house ready for friends to come over, and a birthday party my kids were invited to, and the game itself, it's not surprising I forgot to post this last night.
So on Friday, Janet Reid posted one of her 100-word contests. We had to incorporate
in a complete story. Mine was called "Orefan."
Mrs. Guilford didn't know which garnered more pathos. The girl's doe eyes, or the hand-scribbled note she held out.
“Please help. I am an orefan.”
A sign from God, she thought, touching her barren belly.
“Come in, child. What’s your name?”
Mrs. Guilford fed, bathed, and dressed Aurora in warm nightclothes before tucking her into the bed meant for another.
This is how it should have been, she thought, kissing the girl's forehead.
The next morning, examining her empty jewelry box, Mrs. Guilford wondered whether the note's solecism stemmed from her marionettist's ironic illiteracy, or wicked sense of humor.
As I write this (a while before posting and the evening's kid activities), the results have not been posted. Cross your fingers, and please share your thoughts.