A (very) short story

Imagine a person. She has a bit of a tummy from a pregnancy some seven months ago along with short hair (don’t look too close or you’ll see the grey) and black rimmed glasses. She must be pleased to see you as she’s waving.

But then. Wait a minute.

On closer inspection you find she isn’t waving. What is she doing?

You look where she is. In a house. With ironing, clutter, washing, nappies and recycling.

As you peer closer you do a double take. Surely those aren’t eyes? And a mouth too? It's opening...Good grief. It can’t be.

The house is turning into a monster.

She isn’t waving. She’s signalling for help. The house is about to eat the girl, whole.

Gulp.

Comments

[Kat W]

Oh bless you. A mother of a baby & nearly six year old can't expect to have a tidy tame house! Kat :-)

[JJ Beattie]

Yeah; a touch slovenly? So?

We love you just the way you (and your house) are.

[Helen]

thank you lovely ladies. I feel better for having written about it! Funny that.