A writing exercise for Evil Editor
I will send a prize for the first correct answer out of the bag at Midnight on Sunday 1st July. An exact answer, rather than a general one, will make you more likely to win. Comment with your answer. They will remain screened until the drawing takes place.
Harold looked at the object, his brows furrowing. It was unlike Jasfoup to be concerned with collecting such trivia; the demon was more likely to crunch them underfoot. It was fist sized, if you discounted the sharp points which added an extra inch or two and was a combination of peach and sand in colour, the striations lightening as they spiralled to a point. It looked more like the skeletal remains of the lionfish they’d had for dinner last night than anything else Harold could imagine.
Checking that his friend was still in the bathroom (lionfish, apparently, disagreed with him) Harold picked the spiny object up, feeling how smooth the surface was under his fingertips and put it to his ear. He could hear, as if it was on a distant horizon, a crashing sound.
“Do you mind?” said a tinny voice. “That’s my china cabinet gone over.”
© Rachel Green 2007