No longer the jester

Sheila understood. Finally.

She imagined how dear Robert and his mousy Molly had laughed behind her back and now she’d been stranded, humiliated and alone.

It was just a play with her acting the jester.

She watched as they went to bed. As Robert nibbled Molly’s earlobes she remembered that tickling sensation, phantom-pains for a lost limb.

She waited until all was dark before she started to pouring gallons of gasoline into the flowerbeds.

The reek of smoke would cling her clothes.

She would be caught.

It was better being a villain than a jester she thought, lighting a match.

It has been a while since I last wrote for Friday Fictioneers. It has been very intense at work so I have missed out a great deal. But now I’m back.

Friday Fictioneers is a great community where Rochelle gives us a picture and keeps us all under control and make sure we stick to the 100-word rule… If it is one thing that improves your writing it is sticking to restrictions I think. If you want to Join visit Rochelle’s site for more instructions. If you prefer just to just read other stories click on the froggy below.


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February 26, 2020

41 responses to “No longer the jester

  1. Bjorn, your stories have been missed. You’ve made up for lost time with this one. Wonderful unicycling froggie gif also, he balances so well.

  2. Splendidly dark story, Bjorn. Like many others, I enjoyed the phantom limb metaphor. I also like the way you caught the feminine point of view which automatically denigrated her rival as ‘mousy Molly’.

  3. Bjorn, we really have missed your unique touch, and this story is no exception to the “unique.” I had no idea where you were going until poor Sheila started dousing the flower beds with gasoline. Horrors!

  4. Welcome back Bjorn and to your normal high standard. I like the phantom pains for a lost limb. I took a while off myself due to work and writing pressures but it’s great to be back

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