Rebecca was the first of our contributing authors.

 

It had been a perfectly excruciating affair, but at least this time she hadn’t misused her snail fork.

After the incident last week, mother had ensured her extra tutelage on the proper uses of all things cutlery. Adeline could now tell the difference between a fish fork and a salad fork without so much as a glance. She still was unable to ride a prized stallion or to learn the heart-pounding thrill of fencing, but, as mother said, when would she ever need to know those things?

But enough of that, it was a topic for tomorrows argument. Right now she was sat alongside her mother, feeling the insatiable lust and temptation to purposely choose to use her olive spoon, even though she were about to indulge in some ripened summer fruits.

She tentatively moved her hand, before a brief slap led her astray.

‘No no dear,’ a delicate voice reasoned, ‘the dessert spoon, remember? You were doing so well.’

The voice pressed closer to her ear, and continued to whisper, ‘And you best make a good impression on Sir Hufflefloople.’

The man opposite Adeline was this very Sir Hufflefloople. The most eligible bachelor this side of the Pacific Ocean, her mother reasoned. Heir to the voluptuous Hufflefloople fortune.

‘If this were that Game of Thrones show you like so much’, her mother reasoned, ‘He would be that dragon lady.’

Adeline loved Daenerys, in that crazy show Monsieur Cuddles had managed to set up for her from the very distant future. Whenever she visited the Bimblespottin mansion they always gifted her with crazy inventions and lavish gifts from the future. Game of Thrones was no exception. Adeline thought Daenerys and Brienne of Tarth were thoroughly spiffing ladies, and although she did not dare admit it to her mother, she wished she could be as bad ass as them one day.

But Sir Hufflefloople did not give her the same thrills and chills as Daenerys Stormborn did. He didn’t have dragons and beautiful blonde curls. He just had troublesome bowels, and she didn’t want to engage with anyone with that sort of medical history. She had read in the papers about what had happened to Mr Watersby at that concert. She did not care to witness that carnage and destruction first hand.

‘Sir Bimblespottin would care very little about my ignorance in the face of spoons.’ Adeline cautioned her mother.

Her face turned green, as it always did at the mention of Adeline’s most exemplary friends.

‘Do not mention that person under this roof,’ she said, ‘Those people at that Bimblespottin mansion are nothing but trouble. And what is wrong with that Duke of theirs? Froggleton, his name? Miss Draggidoodle says he was confined for examination after trying to wed a yellow-bellied toad.’

‘He did indeed!’ the nearby Miss Draggidoodle cried at top volume, ‘Crazy, the lot of them! That monstrous servant of theirs especially. He didn’t even have the gall to write me a letter over the summer! I must have wrote to him about thirty times.’

*

So the evening droned on.

Adeline returned home and was bade goodnight. And no, she was not permitted to go visit that ghastly Bimblespottin mansion, she was to stay home until she could learn how to behave like a ‘proper lady’. She did not want to become a penniless spinster and live out the rest of her life a disgrace, did she?

Adeline could only say no, she did not want to be a disgrace and social abnormality, no matter her own private opinion. Adeline would be more than happy living with Bimblespottin and all his friends, with perhaps her own attractive girlfriend, having adventures day after day.

Anything would be better than Sir Hufflefloople.

*

Adeline was awoken in the early hours by a bang and a crash, followed by an earth-shattering explosion. As she lit the candle by her bedside, she was greeted by her most favourite person in the world.

‘Why hello, young Adeline’, Bimblespottin said, ‘We’ve just discovered an alternate universe where everything is engulfed in pudding, would you care to join us?’

‘Pudding!’ She exclaimed with glee.

She would definitely need her olive spoon for that.

*

“Hi. I’m Rebecca, a literature with creative writing student at Nottingham Trent University. I am one of the contributors to ‘The Dragon Writes’, who often blends literature with wacky manga illustrations.
Most of my work revolves either around silly slapstick comedy or the ghastly Gothic.
You can check out the rest of my work here:
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