FICTION MONDAYS IS BACK !!

Fiction Mondays hasn’t been around for awhile, because honestly I was trying to figure out what I wanted FM to become. My goal eventually is to showcase writers work, featuring some  fan-ficton and publish sneak peaks of the latest book .

THE FIRST TIME REGINALD ARCHER saw the thing, it was, in its simplicity, absolute. It owned not the  slightest complication or involvement. It lacked the tiniest, the tiniest, the remotest, the most insignificant trace of embellishment. It looked like this:

A spot. Nothing more. Black, as you see, somewhat lopsided, as you see-an unprepossessing, unpretentious spot.

It was located on Reginald Archer’s dazzlingly white linen tablecloth, on his breakfast table, three and one half inches from the side of his eggcup. Reginald Archer was a bachelor, had been one for his full forty – three  years, and he was fond of a smoothly running household. Things like black spots on table linens displeased him, perhaps beyond reason. He rang the bell to summon the butler, Faulks.

That worthy  entered and, seeing the dark expression upon his master’s face, approached his side with caution. He cleared his throat, bowed ever so slightly, just exactly the right amount of bow, and, following the direction of his master’s thin, pale,pointing finger, observed, in his turn, the spot.

“What.” asked Archer ” is this doing here ?”

Faulks, after a moment’s solemn consideration, owned he had no idea how the spot had come to be there, apologized profusely for its presence, and promised its imminent are permanent removal. Archer stood, the egg left untasted in its cup, his appetite gone, and left the room. Read the rest here