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  • Dory felt like a wet blanket. She’d overdosed on colours in the shawl and cape shop, and had to lie down in the back room. As she waited for the room to stop spinning, sprawled on a rather smelly old sofa that seemed more like a glukenitch bed than a sofa, she listened to various snatches of ... · ID #174 (continued)
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Reply To: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler

› Forums › Yurara Fameliki’s Stories › The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler › Reply To: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler

September 21, 2025 at 9:24 pm #7973
TracyTracy
Participant
    Tattler Manor

    “Whatever happened to Miss Mossy Trotter, Finnley?” Liz asked, conversationally. She had a good idea what had happened to that innovative story writer, but she wanted to hear what Finnley had to say, before she mentioned it to Godfrey.

    “What to YOU think happened to her?” Finnley responded, in her customary rudely intuitive manner.

    “Sit down on that stool for a minute, and put the feather duster down,” Liz instructed, “And let’s have a talk about this because we both know that the possible ramifications don’t bear thinking about. Now then, sit still for five minutes and tell me everything.”

    Unseen by either of them, Roberto had sidled up to the French windows and was peering inside, listening.

    Daily Random Quote

    • Dory felt like a wet blanket. She’d overdosed on colours in the shawl and cape shop, and had to lie down in the back room. As she waited for the room to stop spinning, sprawled on a rather smelly old sofa that seemed more like a glukenitch bed than a sofa, she listened to various snatches of ... · ID #174 (continued)
      (next in 01h 34min…)

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