Snowdrops ~ A Saint Patrick's Day story
Quilldancing Assignment #3
Quilly posted this on her blog March 6, 2011:
Your Writing Assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a complete story in 500 words or less using the scenario below to kick-start your thinking. Publish your story on your blog March 15th, then come back here (to her blog) and link it to my March 15th story.
The photo below reveals the main character of your story. Your tale must also include a 4 leaf clover and a golden key.
(My entry weighs in at 498 words but is posted two days late on St. Patrick's Day.)
Betsy was up to her ears in white snowdrops. These little flowers were early this year and were getting in Betsy’s way. Betsy had been looking this day for four-leaf clovers. But now these darned snowdrops, well, they were confounding the issue. You see Betsy had stayed home ‘sick’ from kindergarten today.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like school, just that the other kids would tease her especially hard on St. Patrick’s Day for not being Irish. Irish was in, definitely. Didn’t they declare an Irish holiday for the old gentleman? After all he did scare all the snakes away.
So they say, thought Betsy.
It was barely six weeks since Grandmum had gotten killed and Mum was worried silly whenever Betsy went out to play. “Always tell us when you go,” she would say, “and don’t go out of the yard.” Poopy! There wasn’t any fun in the yard.
Now who in the world is this coming out here? Mum always said don’t talk to strangers. I hope they don’t want to talk. I’ll hunker down a bit and hide over behind this stump.
“Hey you. Kid,” hollered the one with the hairy eyebrows and ear lobes, “come over here.”
“Mum says for me not to talk with strangers,” Betsy replied meekly in her shaky little voice, “and you look strange to me.”
“Peanut, you come over here,” commanded the one with the crooked nose. “Who you calling strange, you Brit little silly? Just a tiddler should shut his mouth about being strange.”
Betsy knew in an instant that these blokes were up to no good. Calling her a boy made no sense. “Run, run fast,” entered her mind. That was what Father would yell she knew. Both men were chasing her now, each with a paper knife raised to strike! Betsy ran faster!
The bloke with hairy ears threw his knife. It sailed past Betsey’s shoulder. That was a close shave! Wow! Then she stumbled. Her left foot got tangled in a string. Strange! Was everything strange today?
Betsy found herself falling into a hole. Not the rabbit hole like Alice found. Just a deep hole. Out of sight in the hole, Betsy unraveled the string. Yikes! This might be her lucky day! A gold key at the end of the string. But then, …
That the key had been her grandmum’s was her fortune today. The crooked nose fellow had thrown the string. Grandmum’s key was on it! With those guys in jail now, and the chest to unlock, Betsy was on High Street!
Better yet! Inside the chest was Grandmum’s four-leaf clover. “This is my lucky day after all,” she sighed. And smiled. She would be a hero in school tomorrow. Thank you lucky snowdrops.
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Snowdrop Placard Photo and Story Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov -- All Rights Reserved
Note: This story was written for and is also on my other blog, Jim's Little Blog.