Ella arrived back home just before midnight. The golden carriage’d been delayed—unexpected maintenance—so she’d had to find her own way. Skirts rain-soaked, glass slippers…well, slippery…she shucked the gown and ran home in her chemise, dropping one slipper in the mud. Continue reading
“Strange men. Is there any other kind?” she sighed, scanning the row of heavy, shaggy heads bent over the bar rail. Continue reading
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Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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