|PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr|
So there I was in the park, enjoying a little tipple but must have dozed off.
The midnight gong of the clock tower woke me up. Out there on the road stood a splendid golden coach, harnessed with six cream colored horses. The coachman wore a powdered wig and silk stockings. There were six footmen in splendid liveries.
As the last gong sounded the coach became a pumpkin, the horses transformed into mice and the coachman into a rat. Six lizards scurried away while a pretty beggar girl, limping in one shoe, ran past crying.
I am never drinking again.
***Written for Friday Fictioneers (episode 99). Word Count : 100