picture copyright Sarah Ann Hall
Uncle was an explorer and he kept a strict house.
“Don’t enter the library.” “Don’t touch the souvenirs.” “Don’t cross the fence…”
This last rule I considered breaking. What did he keep over there?
Uncle never said, but one hot and sticky night, I saw him climb across, dragging along a freshly slaughtered lamb.
After that I had to know. I expected some exotic beast, captured on his travels.
So imagine my surprise. No panther. No jaguar. Just Aunt Margaret, long presumed dead, hanging from a tree and happy as a Fruit bat.
But unlike Uncle, quite glad of my company.
This story was written for the Friday Fictioneers. Click the smiley blue guy to read more stories from other authors.