A slow worm called stumpy
Lives under the tin
And five little mice were born
Right beside him
Out in the garden
Where dappled leaves shade
Under old rusty iron
Creatures live. Unafraid

©️jane jago 2024

Since Ben and Joss Beckett took over The Fair Maid and Falcon, they have had to deal with ghosts, gangsters and well-dodgy goings-on. Despite that they have their own family of twin daughters and dogs, and a fabulous ‘found family’ of friends.

With Sian’s help I sailed through the two days before Roz and Allie returned from their holiday, and even managed the time to meet them at the station. They erupted from the train like miniature tornadoes, followed at a more leisurely pace by Ben’s dad, Don, and Stella’s mum, Audrey. I hugged my wriggling daughters very tightly and listened while they tried to cram a whole three weeks of good times into as few sentences as possible.
After loading them into the car I turned my attention to their doting grandfather.
“Are you sure you two won’t come back to the Fair Maid for a few days.”
He grinned. “We’re sure. Home calls and we’re missing the dogs.”
“And the peace and quiet. I hope the girls haven’t been too much for you.”
“No. They’ve been exemplary. It’s just the questions.”
I could relate to that. “Tell them to Google it. That’s why they have iPads.”
“Unfortunately we didn’t have wifi. So. But here’s our lift.”
A battered Land Rover belonging to my cousin, who is also Don and Audrey’s neighbour, pulled up alongside and a pair of border collies boiled out to greet their humans.
“Let us out, Mummy Beckett,” Roz demanded. “We want to speak to Spot and Rover.”
I could see the grandparents wilting at the thought of even more excitement in the car park. So I put my foot down.
“Sorry my loves, we don’t have time. Daddy is wanting to see you.”
I looked at Audrey, noticing for the first time how pale she was.
“What’s up? If those pair have been naughty…”
She smiled wearily. “Not the girls. My own silly fault. We went to the water park yesterday and I fell over. Nothing broken, but I’ve bruised my ribs badly. I’ll be fine with plenty of rest.”
I kissed her cheek. “Does Stella know?”
“Yes. I spoke to her this morning. She knows I’ll be well looked after with Don.”
“Yes. You will. Shall I send someone along with a box of cooked meals?”
“That would be a help.” She brightened perceptibly. “Maybe a steak and Stilton pie?”
“Certainly A pie or two.”
I hugged her carefully and Don helped her into the front of the Landy where there was a nest of blankets. He climbed into the back with his dogs and my cousin made me a cheery salute before pulling gently away for their drive home.
I jumped into my own car where the twins were inclined to be indignant about not speaking to the dogs. But they calmed down when I asked what had happened to Audrey.
“Granny went on the big water slide and she came down whoosh. But when she was climbing out some big lout of a boy pushed her and she fell down hard on her side.” Roz explained.
Allie took up the story. “Grandpa was furious. But he didn’t go after the boy because he was helping Granny. I think she would have cried if we wasn’t there. But the first aid men gave her something to suck and we all went for a ride in a ambulancia. The doctor said she has no broke bones and he gave her some tablets.”
“Then we went home and we was quiet, quiet so Granny could rest. And Grandpa sent out for pizza so we could eat on the patio.”
The girls sounded worried so I hastened to reassure them.
“Granny will be fine. She’s just very sore right now. When we get home you can help me put together a basket of foods for them. Because grandpa isn’t much of a cook.”
They nodded wisely, then Allie spoke in her most serious tones.
“Mummy Beckett. We have been thinking.”
“And what have you thought, my loves?”
“We have thought about how busy you and Daddy Beckett is and we wants to know if we can help you while we aren’t in school.”
My heart felt so full in my chest that it was likely to burst. “Thank you my dear ones, but you are a bit too young to work in the pub. Though you could help mummy and daddy by being good girls if mummy gets someone to help her look after you.”
“Are you getting a help person?”
They spoke as one child
“I am, and it’s one of your favourite friends. It’s Sian.”
They clapped their hands in delight before Roz gave me one of her straight looks.
“Will we have to do as Sian says?”
Ali chimed in.
“Just like she was a proper grown up?”
“Indeed you will. Is that a problem?”
They thought for a moment then shook their fair heads. Ali voiced their opinion.
“It won’t be a problem. Because Sian is kind. And you said we can help you and Daddy Beckett by being good.”
“You can indeed. Now. Shall we go home?”
The wriggled their bottoms more securely into their car seats and nodded.
“Yes please, Mummy. We have been looking forward to seeing you all.”
They enlivened the drive home with holiday anecdotes, and some songs that Audrey had taught them sung rather off-key. When we were all but there I pulled into a lay-by and passed them my phone.
“Would you like to call Daddy and let him know we will be home in ten minutes?”
Their smiles almost split their faces and they carefully dialled Ben’s number. He answered at once.
“You nearly, home Joss?” There was a slight thread of anxiety in his voice.
The twins giggled. “We’re not Mummy. It’s Allie and Roz, Daddy Beckett. Be home to give you kisses in ten minutes.”
They ended the call and handed back my phone.
“Daddy sounded a bit wobbly so we better hurry home to hug him.”
“Daddy’s just excited. He’s been missing you. As have I, and the dogs, and all your friends.”
Which was about the best I could do by way of distracting them. It went quiet for a few seconds and I awaited the explosion, but it didn’t come. Instead they spoke gently.
“We’ve missed you all too. But we did have a lovely holiday.”
As soon as my Discovery pulled onto the gravel of our private parking, the house door flew open and Ben charged out with four dogs frolicking around his legs. How they got to the car without mishap is beyond me, but they did, and Ben wrenched open the rear door, receiving his daughters in the warmth of his large embrace. The dogs managed to squeeze themselves into the car alongside the three hugging humans. Mayhem ensued and my eardrums were being assaulted so I decided to move.
I got out of the driving seat and looked towards the open front door, where Sian stood laughing. She gave me a thumbs up and I wandered over to where she stood.
“What’s bugging Ben?”
“Mum’s off duty after lunch finishes, and she wants to go and see gran. Ben was going to go with her, but he got a phone call and now he says he can’t go. He don’t want Mum to go on her own and neither does Dad. So there’s a bit of a standoff going on.”
I sighed. “We’ll just send a couple of Connor Smith’s ‘boys’ along with her. They worship her cream buns so she’ll be as safe as houses.”
Sian chuckled. “You don’t half think fast.”
“It’s a case of having to, love. Encompassed about with macho men as I am.”

There will be more from Joss, Ben and their friends, courtesy of Jane Jago, next week, or you can catch up with their earlier adventures in Who Put Her In and Who Pulled Her Out.

Because life can be interesting when you are a non-player character in an online video game…

The cavern entrance became a long tunnel that went down for a while, lit by a weird blue luminescence which seemed to come from the walls. Then there was an abrupt angle up and the rock had been carved into steps. Climbing these, Milla suddenly found herself emerging from water into a huge underground chamber, with the same spooky illumination coming from pillars of rock.
“Awesome!” Pew breathed. “We made it in.”
“Well, now we’re here. What are we doing?”
Milla wondered how Pew would explain the situation to Glory. It wasn’t going to be easy she was sure of that.
“We’re here to rescue someone,” Pew began. “It’s a kind of friend of mine and…”
“Well frack me! Pew, what you doing here?”
Milla spun around and saw a rather fat dwarf, with a long beard which was plaited into a complex design. But it wasn’t the beard that held her attention. It was more that he was wearing something that looked part way between a bikini and a sarong. On his head was a golden tiara set with a huge glowing diadem.
“String?” Pew sounded faint and Milla felt him grip her hand tightly as the dwarf waddled over towards them.
“Oh hello Milla. You here too? And who’s this?”
“Uh.. I’m Glory. Nice to meet you…um.. String?”
String smiled happily.
“I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you buddy!”
“String,” Pew released Milla’s hand and put both his on the dwarf’s shoulders. “You’ve got to leave here. Come with us now before the Queen repops.”
String laughed.
“You fracking kidding? Leave? I got it all here, bro. You seen these Lamia? Let me tell you the Queen is the hottes…”
“String! You are being controlled by her. You’re stuck here. Like really here. Your roomies are going wild. You’ve got to come with us.”
The dwarf pulled away.
“I don’t think so.” Slowly he began to grow until he was almost twice the size he had been. A giant dwarf, now looking Pew in the eye, his inappropriate attire stretched almost to breaking over his bulging body. He produced a double-headed axe from somewhere, each blade engraved with dwarven runes of power and the haft bound with strips of black dragon leather. String grinned and gave it a test swing. “Nice action. Now, what were you saying, Pew?”
Pew stepped back shaking his head.
“You’re not yourself. Look at you. Dressed like that. Wake up!”
The giant dwarf threw back his head and laughed.
“You thought you had it good with a girlfriend in game. You don’t know nothing, Pew. Nothing.”
Then without warning his face transformed to a snarl and he leapt forward, axe swinging, aimed right at Pews neck. The axe blade clanged into Glory’s sword which was suddenly in the way, and then Glory was too, standing between Pew and String, sword ready.
“No, don’t attack him Glory. It’s too dangerous. If he dies here… I don’t know. He might really die. In the real world.”
The dwarf was swinging again and Glory parried and reposted, pushing him onto the defensive.
“Not sure I know what you are on about,” she said, her own face stone featured. “I didn’t start this with, fats here, but I’m going to finish it if he doesn’t put that axe down.”
String laughed maniacally and swung into full on attack mode, Glory moved and dodged the swing, bringing her sword up to cut into his unarmoured flesh, but the blade seemed to do little damage.

Log on to Wrathburnt Sands by E.M. Swift-Hook for the 26th Quest next week.

‘Wrathburnt Sands’ and ‘Return to Wrathburnt Sands’ were first published in Rise and Rescue: A GameLit Anthology and in Rise and Rescue Volume 2: Protect and Recover.

Though the biggers never see it, there is much going on in their own backyard where the ‘nomes make their home…

With the rotting potato having been given a decent burial, life returned to something like normality, although…
Some days later, Oisin was seen staggering across the croquet lawn with a book clasped in his skinny arms. He stopped beside the stone seat where ‘Dolphus nome sat reading his little volume of pomes. The ensuing conversation was loud and recriminatory.
“Brenda said no poteen.”
“I ain’t axing you to make poteen.”
“No. But you’m axing me to tell you how to do it.”
“Don’t be a bumwipe ‘Dolphus.”
Even reading nomes have a breaking point—as Oisin and his book discovered.

Jane Jago

A dictionary for the bemused by Jane Jago…

ahsa (noun) – of writers the dreadful feeling experienced in the moment when they realise a plot line is not going to work

awamped (adjective) – slightly damp and smelling of embrocation

lieks (noun) – soup vegetable with the flavour of elderly socks

berhand (adjective) ambidextrous when under the influence of rough cider

clamerous (adjective) – of children in the back of a car demanding to know if we are ‘there yet’

concrend (noun) – inferior building material

delting (verb) – of BDSM the beating of a willing slave with barely cooked spaghetti

enxt (adjective) – attempting to camouflage anxiety by the wearing of a lot of beige knitted clothing

finsih (noun) – minor Scandinavian dialect

nemies (noun) – small Andean rodents often kept as pets by geography teachers

perdick (adjective) – resembling a flaccid penis

probaly (adverb) – of finger pointing very specific threat level

taht (noun) – estuarine pronunciation of tart

wasteat (noun) – the pointed end of the right breast

wriign (verb) – of country dancing or folk singing the action of being persistently half a second behind the beat

yjay (adjective) – birdlike and maliciously inquisitive

Disclaimer: all these words are genuine typos defined by Jane Jago. The source of each is withheld to protect the guilty.

Telling an entire story in just one hundred words…

It never seemed fair to Tammy. Why was it when autumn came that all the trees kept their green except the River Tree? 

Sitting in her wheelchair, she wondered if he was sad when his glorious green mantle turned red and gold, then lifted away with the wind, leaving him standing gaunt on the riverbank.

He alone must die whilst those trees around him stayed green and strong.

Tammy watched the sunset, golden behind the River Tree. At least he would come alive again in the spring. Maybe she would still be too, so she could see him return.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV takes time from his immensely important life to proffer profound advice to those who still struggle on the aspirational slopes of authorhood…

Beloved Readers Who Write,

Although a reminder of my superb credentials and exquisite sensibilities is becoming increasingly superfluous, it is possible that a tiny minority of the denizens of cyberspace may, as yet be unacquainted with the masterful intellect that is Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV the renowned author of both the speculative fiction classic ‘Fatswhistle and Buchtooth’ and of this ‘The Thinking Quill’ which offers insight into the mysteries of the authorial craft. Ecco, mes estudas, here one is. Prepared to pedagogueise…

Developing your Characters

For today’s little tutorial, one’s fickle Muse leads one further along the bridleways of characterisation and the building of those sprites which shall infuse your works with life and loveliness. Follow in one’s footsteps, mes enfants, and you will surely find that the strength of one’s pedagogical peregrinations shields your tender little souls from the hurricanes of blandness, excessive ‘realism’, cold bare prose, and that all-devouring vampiric creature whose name is critic.

Ergo, mes enfants, when you have your protagonistic personifications placed in your psyche allow them to speak within the pristine pergola of your mind. Listen as they tell you of their lives and loves and leisure pursuits. Speak with them aloud as their insubstantial forms draw flesh from conversation with their creator. Fear not the idle sneers of ignoramuses, listen not to well-meant advice wherein those less sensitive to etheric beings counsel against speech with those entities none else can see or hear.

Be brave and enter into such dialogues as the children of your encephalon will vouchsafe to you. Dispute with them, should that be their will. Declaim aloud your fractious floccinaucinihilipilification. Shout to the skies when Erato and Calliope send unto you an actor of such ferocious intractability as to madden the very core of your sensitivities. Sing lullabies to soothe the merciless breast of your insubstantial interlocutor. Eat only that which their nourishment requires, abstain from tobacco, strong drink, and hallucinogenic substances so that your soul can be pure and your psyche open to the voices from beyond.

In the ultimate analysis, when you have a protagonist who walks by your side directing your steps you have succeeded beyond mere measure, and you can allow yourself to be led by the hand into the labyrinthine lusciosity of lustful lubriciousness that is literature lubricated by genius.

Ah yes, mes estudas, when your careful construction takes breath into its own lungs your work is done. Cry tears of joy as you inscribe into insubstantial cyberspace the passages of pusillanimous prose your protagonists dictate to you.

When their clamour will not let you sleep, you will know you have achieved the ultimate in character creation!

I shall conclude with advice on antagonists. They are the bad people, everyone knows what a bad person is like, we all have neighbours, work colleagues or relatives we despise. So there is no need to explain them or their motives in more than the briefest of detail. Less is more.

Écrit bon…

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

You can find more of IVy’s profound advice in How To Start Writing A Book courtesy of E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

Can you walk into a cloud
And leave your cares behind
Cast sorrow like an icy shroud
Bring comfort to your mind
The cloudscape as a mother’s arms
Inviting teary eyes
Come run with me, says siren charm
You will no more cry
But clouds are just vapour
And poems words on paper

©️jane jago 2024

Since Ben and Joss Beckett took over The Fair Maid and Falcon, they have had to deal with ghosts, gangsters and well dodgy goings-on. Despite that they have their own family of twin daughters and dogs, and a fabulous ‘found family’ of friends. 

Finoula seemed to be communicating with a person, or persons, nobody else could hear, but whatever she was hearing seemed to be easing a tension in her. She turned her sightless gaze on me.
“You may remember,” she said slowly, “that I was summoned to the Memorial Garden to speak with those who reside there.”
“I do remember.”
“Well. I was told that there was something of untold value hidden nearby. But that I wasn’t to mention it and I was not destined to find it. I asked why I was being told, and got the usual guff about how I would know when the time came.”
“And now is the time?”
“Apparently. And the spirits say that ‘ratting out’ one group to the other is precisely the correct thing to do.”
Mark’s smile just about split his face. “I don’t remember ever having my actions sanctioned from the other side.”
The air became a little thicker and a vague aroma of roses tinged with decay made my nose itch.
“Is that you Esme?”
My ghostly ‘daughter’ laughed. “It is. I’m here to tell you that the young ones will find treasure.”
I felt the touch of cold lips on my cheek and she was gone.
Jonas and James looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
“It ain’t my fault,” I said, “we found Esme’s remains in a well and she was grateful to be able to move out of that place of pain and degradation. For some reason she has never chosen to explain she decided to stick around, and she sees me as a sort of surrogate mother.”
Finoula opened her mouth and I quickly intervened.
“If you were about to tell me why Esme is still here, please don’t. Let her keep this one secret. She had bugger all in this life, so the least we can do is allow her her privacy in the next.”
She reacted as if I had slapped her and I felt awful, but Jed leaned across and said something to her in Rom. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and I could feel her absorbing strength from the gentle young giant. He smiled at me and I was warmed by the depth of his understanding.
Finoula lifted her face and turned to look at me. It was as if her sightless eyes saw through my skin, but it wasn’t as creepy as that sounds.
“Sorry Joss,” she said. “I was about to overstep. I needed a reminder that being able to do something doesn’t necessarily mean doing it is a good idea.”
“It’s not a big deal. But I wouldn’t feel right walking through Esme’s mind.”
“No. And I have no right to do so. Which she just reminded me. I think she might have been angrier had she not understood that I meant no harm and had not her mother showed me the error of my ways.”
I felt the touch of Esme’s little hand on my cheek. She spoke in my mind. ‘Tell the clairvoyant to mind her own business, or I will be angry with her.’
I replied in kind. ‘She knows already. And you will do well to remember that she is under my protection.’ I palliated the severity of the reminder by blowing her a mental kiss. Her giggle sounded all around the room, but only I could hear her promise to behave.
“Have you marked Esme’s card?” Ben asked.
“I have. And she has promised to behave.”
“That’s okay then. But I think you’ve scared some of our visitors spitless.”
I looked at Jonas and James and saw their struggle.
“Look you pair,” I said severely. “It’s no use you looking at me like that. I didn’t ask for the supernatural stuff. In fact, given the choice, I’d have had bugger all to do with it. Only I never got the choice. So I deal. And you get to deal too unless you’d prefer me to clip you round the ears.”
Jonas laughed, at first it was the dry sound of bravado, but then his sense of humour raised its head and he chuckled.
“I don’t reckon you could reach to clip me round the ear.”
I regarded him with mild belligerence. “I can jump.”
For some reason, all the men found this extremely funny and they laughed loud and long.
Finoula reached for my hand and I grasped her fingers.
“Why are they all on the edge of hysteria?” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” I said, “The ghost thing put the shits right up the Spanish contingent. The loud laughter is their way of reaching for balance.”
“I thought that might be it, but it’s sometimes frustrating not to be able to see.”
I moved my chair closer to her and we leaned on each other while the boys got themselves together.
Once they had rearranged their faces, Mark took over. At first I thought Jonas might be a bit difficult about being elbowed aside by his son, but Esme had spooked him so badly that he was glad to step aside and let Mark deal.
“We have fairly strong indications of who both sides of the equation may be. I have no love for either group, but in the interest of protecting my family and friends, I’m willing to contact the right people and drop the involvement of the others into their, hopefully receptive, ears.” He stopped talking and turned his diamond bright gaze on me. “The thing is, Joss, they are bound to want to talk to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are known to be the business brain around here.”
“And…”
“And they are going to need convincing of your motivation for buying the land.”
“Oh well. That’s going to be easy isn’t it.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that we bought the land because it was going cheap. Because the field will be a useful addition to our thriving market garden. Because I wasn’t a bit keen on anyone buying the orchard and paddock as they adjoin the pub – the spectre of someone greasing someone’s hands and a few overpriced houses full of Karens and Kens getting built on my doorstep. Oh and because my husband is a quixotic bastard, who also had a pipe dream about buying our children ponies. Which is NOT happening.”
“If you put it like that, I’m guessing they’ll buy it.” James smiled at me.
“Who are ‘they’?” Ben asked.
Finoula spoke softly. “The spirits of the garden tell me they are the people who had the stone bench carved.”
I felt cold fingers touch my spine.
“That’d be the men with the musical accents and the cold dead eyes, then. The ones whose patronage scared a stonemason with hands like feet absolutely shitless.”
“Yes. Them.” Mark bit the words off as if they tasted bad.
Esme spoke in my head. ‘It’s okay. They will believe you. They are bad men. But they understand truth.’
I came back to the room to find an argument already blowing up. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled sharply. Everyone turned to look at me.
“According to my ‘daughter’ on the other side, the ‘bad men’ will believe me. So you lot can quit it with the macho stuff and tell the man who needs to know. I can do the rest.”
Jonas opened and shut his mouth a couple of times before grinning ruefully.
“I don’t remember you being so bossy when you were beating my arse at backgammon.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Your place. Your rules. But this is my place. So we play by my rules or we don’t play.”
“Does your husband have no say in the matter?”
Ben snorted. “It ain’t me being asked to deal with a very bad guy.”
“But if you had a say. What would you say?”
Mark chuckled. “Very little if he knows what’s good for him.”
It was Ben’s turn to laugh. “Something like that. If Joss and me didn’t have trust in each other we couldn’t be…”
Jed ran a big hand over Finoula’s head. “That’s the truest thing anyone has said today.”
Which about adjourned our meeting. Jed and Finoula went to meet some pygmy goats, the Brown contingent went to talk to some bad men, and me and Ben went to work.

There will be more from Joss, Ben and their friends, courtesy of Jane Jago, next week, or you can catch up with their earlier adventures in Who Put Her In and Who Pulled Her Out.

Because life can be interesting when you are a non-player character in an online video game…

A group of four sinuous bodied females were skimming across the waters of the lake towards them, propelled by their finned serpentine tails, their long blue and green hair covering some of their upper torso and a diaphanous fabric crossed beneath their breasts into a kind of trailing skirt which outlined where they had human-like bottoms and thighs before their legs became snakelike. Their expressions were of feral anger and they each wielded weapons – swords, daggers or staves
Milla was not surprised they were so angry. It must be terrible not having proper legs.
“And this,” Pew said as he held his own staff aloft, “is why we needed a tank and heals. We get two waves of four then the boss who comes with two more and can summon an add every ten percent.”
“By the power of My Skull!” Glory slashed out at the nearest of the Lamia as Pew sent a fireball over her shoulder and two of them exploded into stars.
“Got their healer,” Pew said with satisfaction, and then waded into the fray using his staff as a blunt weapon. The two remaining Lamia hissed and writhed. One clawed at Pew and Glory shouted “No you don’t you fat cow!” which enraged the Lamia so much she returned her attention to hitting Glory, who was looking a bit beaten up.
A few moments later it was over and the lake was tranquil once again. Glory moved her arms in a gesture of supplication and her injuries faded as if they had never been. Then pulled her bow from over her shoulder.
“If we can down one before they close it’ll be easier,” she said just as a new group of Lamia came over the lake towards them.
Two arrows and a spray of mini fireballs sank one, the other three were subjected to a mouthful of abuse from Glory, depreciating their physical characteristics, their philosophy and their parentage. Milla’s ears burned with it and she wondered how Glory could come up with such vile things. But it kept the Lamia fully focusing their ferocity on the elf as Pew sent spell after destructive spell into them doing far more damage than Glory was. This time Milla had to send the power from her pendant to stop Pew from exhausting his magical powers before the fight was done.
Then the two Visitors were breathing hard and the last of the Lamia had disappeared into thin air.
“Alright this is the big one,” Glory said, wiping a golden gauntleted hand ineffectually across her brow. “Milla you are going to have to be our off-tank. The encounter needs one or we won’t make it.”
“No!” Pew’s protest combined with Milla’s squeak of horror.
“We have to, Pew. You know that. Once in the fight the mob will charm whoever is holding aggro and make them useless. The only way to avoid that is to have someone to take the aggro. If you put your aggro transfer on Milla, then the moment I get charmed and stop taunting, it’ll drop to her and I’ll be back in the fight.”
“I’ll take the aggro.”
“No. You mustn’t. You’ve got to keep the damage going or the Queen’ll start to self heal. For fracks sake, that’s why the whole thing is set up this way. It’s meant for a full group not… not whatever we are.”
“But Milla could get hurt!”
“If she doesn’t do it we’ll all get dead!”
Milla held up a hand to silence them. She could already see the waters of the lake beginning to boil and was pretty sure that meant they were out of time.
“I’ll do it. And shut up Pew, it’s my choice not yours.”
She heard his mouth snap shut, but her eyes were fixed on the lake where the Lamia Queen had just appeared in a spume of mist and bubbles, her body about half as big again as her Lamia sisters, was clad in two thongs, one around her rather impressively large chest and one around her hips, that left almost nothing to the imagination.

Log on to Wrathburnt Sands by E.M. Swift-Hook for the 25th Quest next week.

‘Wrathburnt Sands’ and ‘Return to Wrathburnt Sands’ were first published in Rise and Rescue: A GameLit Anthology and in Rise and Rescue Volume 2: Protect and Recover.