“Of course, it’s all a terrible fraud,”   she thought to herself, as she sat back down on her velvet-covered chair and once again picked up her tapestry needle.

Her lawyers had just left ……the documents had been novated; everything was signed and sealed.

She had offered them refreshment, such as she had, it was a long ride from Windsor.   But the wine had been sour and Monsieur Carton and Signor Demo had beaten a hasty retreat, full of effusive apologies and excuses; of tales of other appointments, other clients pressing for their time.

” Ah, time,”   she thought, her delicate features wrinkling slightly,………. ” there is never enough time.”
She surveyed her handiwork, a rather colourful piece of needle-pointe depicting various historic scenes – scenes of Crusaders and Holy Grails and infidels and bloodshed.  It had proved to be a bigger task than she had anticipated and she wondered if it would ever be finished.

The log fire sparked and crackled in the gloom and she placed her needlework on a nearby footstool, picked up her tiny lapdog and, stroking its soft, white hair as it lay on her knee, she  dozed in the twilight.
The sound of the door creaking open brought her out of her reverie and in came a group of young boys, each one snottier than the last.  They bore dishes of food and a jug of wine and placed it all neatly on a huge oak dining table, then backed deferentially out of the room and left her to her solitary repast.  She picked listlessly at the chicken and beef and various sweetmeats, having no real appetite for food. Then, sighing deeply as darkness fell, she paced up and down the length of the room, thinking, planning, praying.

The early morning sunlight streamed through the open window and she could hear what sounded like a riot outside.

” Good gracious,”  she said,  ” there must be a considerable crowd out there “.

Her maid, Marie, helped her to dress and arrange her hair.  Today, of all days, she must look her best, serene and hauntingly beautiful.  When everything was to their mutual satisfaction, Marie handed her her gloves and they both left the room……her faithful little  dog padding along in her wake.

A tall man approached.

” See how he foams a little at the corners of his mouth and wipes his brow ?”  said Marie,  “He is very nervous, this is a momentous occasion for him, my lady .”

” Ah, he need not worry, I have only a very slender neck ” was the reply.


Well, dear reader, this was a rather feeble entry for a Countdown Word Game a couple of years ago.   Its another of the old posts I have discovered while moving blog posts from BCUK.  I hope you don’t mind my recycling these old stories ? ……I’m afraid there is still a lot of nonsense to re-post… you have been warned.   Anyway ….the words to be included were ; 

Sparked, Novated, Riot, Sour, Fraud, Foams, Carton, Grails, Snottier, Wipes, Demo.

And I’m afraid I cheated a little ….but …hey, I’m a rebel !


About rosiewrites2

Growing old, disgracefully and enjoying every minute.
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4 Responses to Novation

  1. rockleigh says:

    I could see her sat by the fire, knowing this was to be her last supper.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. millieweb2 says:

    I love your stories, Rosie! And I missed your older ones so they are new to me 🙂 Keep them coming, please!


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