“Put on your shortest skirt and your sluttiest knickers; we’re going out.” He says this in such a matter-of-fact tone, with neither menace nor amusement, that I cannot judge his mood. But I know better than to question his instructions. Upstairs, I choose thoughtfully but quickly. Sheer, split-crotch or froufrou?
[This is the second part of a story that began as a guest post for Wicked Wednesday Prompt #456] Between the Forest and the Water’s Edge (‘My Name is…’ part 2, by Elk Vilianni) It was in the late spring of 1789, the second year of my sojourn in the
Miriam arrived early at the workshop venue, a fashionable North London shop that, by day, sold books with titles like ‘Bondage for Bashful Beginners’ and card-sets that promised ‘101 Questions to Unleash Your Inner Pervert’. She was so early, in fact, that, fearing that she would be the first there
“I think I’ve missed my last bus home,” Dawn said to Rosie, as they stumbled out of ‘The Odyssey Discotheque’. The humid night air smelt sweetly of the brewery which dominated the town. “Stay with me, chick. If you don’t mind sharin’ my bed?” “Aw, thanks Rosie. I’m that knackered
Scene 1: Sarah, a young woman with short dark hair, in a black dress, sits in the front pew at Mount Zion Church, Tuscumbia, Missouri. It is the funeral of her maternal grandmother, Esther. As Reverend Felton ends his address, he asks the congregation to remember Esther as they listen
Image by Pexels from Pixabay ‘Dr Clarke’s Desk’, by Elk Vilianni “Good Lord! How utterly peculiar,” exclaimed Mother, staring at the letter that she had just sliced open with the fruit knife. I looked up lazily from my breakfast. I had grown quite accustomed to my mother’s increasing histrionics during this visit home,
Last week I wrote story, ‘Shani’, and shared it for #WickedWednesday. It was the first time I had participated in this meme, the first time that Elk Vilianni had shared her writing in public. It hadn’t occurred to me that people might read it as a true account of my
Shani was two years older than me but ours was a small community and I was an only child so she was more like a big sister than just a friend. And she was badass. Well, our folks considered TV to be sinful so it doesn’t take much to get
