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Writing Contest #22 - Entries

“Give it back to me.”
He licked the jam off his dad’s best pen.
“This is your last chance you little...”
Oliver gazed up with wild wide eyes and giggled, nervously.
His father stretched his arms wide and all reaching, and took a step forward.
The small boy shrieked and darted to his left dropping down behind the sofa.
His dad was quick but Oliver was quicker and behind him scurrying up the stairs.
The house shook as large thunderous feet pounded two at a time chasing small pattering paws on all fours.
A hesitation; he was snared and held aloft triumphantly. Then carried and propelled into the bed.
Rolled on his back the punishment commenced; tickling hands met raucous uncontrollable and innocent glee.
“You’re a little devil, you know.” With a smile once more he was up high in the air then caught in deep rapturous love.

You only have to ask a lawyer to be told that all contracts can be renegotiated. So here I am, on a railway track somewhere between Kings Cross St Pancras and Edinburgh waiting for the 13:56 fast train. My contract has been renegotiated and at last I am free to end it all. I briefly think about my long, varied life and the people who have passed swiftly through it barely leaving a mark on my sole. A shiver goes down my spine as I remember some of the less ‘honourable’ moments but I quickly justify my actions as being ‘appropriate’ at the time. The clouds part to reveal the watery spring sun, the only unchanging feature for all those years. The train thunders towards me and the 900 years flash through my mind. That pact with the devil hasn’t been that bad really. I step away from the line.

“Satan you old devil, how the hell are you?”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“It’s me, Asmodeus, you’re right hand demon”
“Nope, not ringing a Hell’s bell”
“I put some bells up, back in the day. Right earthquakers they were”
“You must remember Mammon, the architect who built Hell?”
“Jerrybuilt you mean”
“Ah, do I detect the brimstoned whiff of agent provocateur? That could only be Belial”
“In person. Though of course I still lack for a material body”
“Less of the brim and more of the stoned then I would venture”
“Happy infernal daze…”
“Who invited us here? I mean I don’t know about you, but I’ve been keeping a low profile after that witchtrial business”
“I don’t recognise anybody”
“I think he was a war criminal somewhere”
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to this workshop on The Art Of Relaunching Your Careers. My background is in PR and marketing…”

“And how are we feeling this morning, Mister Brown?”
“Not too bad.”
“We’ll soon fix that, won’t we? Oh, do you mind if Julian watches? He’s shadowing me today.”
“Not at all.”
“You’re too kind. Now, Julian, we’ve got Mister Brown on a level three treatment regime, so what would you suggest for openers?”
“Disembowelling with a blunt letter opener?”
“I think that’s a wee bit excessive. Don’t look so worried, Mister Brown, we’ll just start with rabid ferrets nibbling your extremities as usual. And I’ll put you in for four hours of distressing smells and noises in the afternoon. How’s that sound?”
“I’m glad you’re the one torturing me and not him.”
“Oh yes, I meant to tell you – I’m being reassigned next week. Julian’s taking over my round. Still, chin up, eh? That’s the spirit.”

I’ve a couch that slumps, and wraps like a hug.
My slippers are beaten, comfy and snug.
The car keeps going, though it’s gone round the clock,
And when I think what I paid, it’s still quite a shock.
The watch on my wrist, once dad’s is now mine,
Scratched and old-fashioned, but it still keeps good time.
I love whisky that’s older, mature Brandy too,
But there’s a greater love here, and that love is you.
I’m not one for swapping, or casting off old,
Better the devil, I’ve often been told.
You’ve been in my life now for thirty long years,
Through ups, and through downs, occasionally tears.
You’re my couch, my slippers, my car round the clock,
My time passing memories, so it’s hardly a shock
To find that I love you much more than brand new;
You get better with age, and not many things do.

You mean you *can*? Darn!

An unusual contract got my vote.

I thought it was next week voting closed :)
I didn't vote for you this time! I went for Rotten Eggs
Books mentioned in this topic
A Splendid Salmagundi (other topics)A Goodreads Gallimaufrey (other topics)
Well I just know I'm the luckiest girl around, no matter what Nan said. Silly old bat. How could she know. He's just perfect, in every way, and he's all mine.
He's always turned out real nice, sharp suit, just a little jewellery (can't be doing with those men dripping with gold – that ain't class) and everyone notices him. Like when he talks, everyone, but everyone, listens. And he can charm the crabbiest old bint, just by smooth talking. I'd seen it myself when he met Mam the first time. I couldn't believe it, he'd near as had her eating out his hand within two minutes of coming in the door. That's never happened with any other of my boyfriends.
Not Nan though, silly old bat. She just laughed at me. “You silly little girl,” she cackled. “He's the devil, you know!”