Chloe Wilson
Regency Romance
I would have written but I drank my ink in a fit of thirst. My signature went south on a ship swarmed by pirates; it has only just returned with a rooster and a pig tattooed on the arches of its feet.
I would have written but the jam served with my breakfast turned out to be a clot of blood and to have exited the lung of my sister. It was my duty to bury her. The Turkey carpet turned to quicksand and it was all I could do to haul myself out.
I would have written but the dog caught its own tail and began eating it and the vicar said this was a terrible sign. We attended vespers in a mood of repentance.
I would have written, only the hares and the foxes dug tunnels under this house until the ground could no longer support its weight and it collapsed.
I write to you now from beneath the rubble. I write with the one hand I have been able to extricate; it scribbles to thank you for your patience, for your faith.