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Literature
Painting a Picture
It is to be expected that a life dedicated to art will never be an easy one.
But, great heavens, it’s hard work being a paintbrush.
Before he knew what was happening, Edgar had been yanked out of his box, dunked in water, and then dunked onto a watercolour tablet.
Everything went black.
Or rather red.
Edgar couldn’t see the paint of course—his bristles were coated in the stuff and seeing anything at all was out of the question—but there were other ways for the experienced paintbrush to work these things out.
He smelt the paint, tasted it, gargled a little, spat the paint out again and listed the ingredients to himself. He waggled his bristles in satisfaction.
Carmine. Quite delightful.
The artist chose that moment to push Edgar harder onto the block, and to move him in a circular motion at a higher speed than Edgar himself might have preferred.
“Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow. Ow.”
“Hey, that’s a familiar voice!”
The artist eased the pre
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Literature
Don't Just Stand There
    I was trapped. The walls pressed in all around me. All I could smell was my own, hot breath. Why did I eat fish for lunch? Help had to be close by. I cried out for aid, but all I could hear was laughter.
    "Aggie, come look! Tinkles has her head caught in another box."
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Literature
FFM 2017 Day 19: Spider on a Test
"Five minutes to go," the teacher announced.
Ouch, just five more minutes. I must be quick, I have to finish this essay, otherwise I'll never make it. Please, all the five minutes, no less. Hurry, hurry, hurry!
"Two minutes," the teacher announced.
Shut up! I need to concentrate, not stress more! Just one paragraph OH MY GOD A SPIDER!!!
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