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The last of Lily Childs’ Feardom entries, before she took a short break, used the words were slack, grate and fanfare. As usual the entries had to be 100 words or less, truly fiction in a flash! She’s back now. I missed last week’s entry so I must try harder – or be punished. Here is my offering for that week in May:

Taxing

The sound of bone grating on iron was drowned by the fanfare of the sheriff’s departing entourage. The cutting winter wind jangled the chains hanging slack around the festering corpse. The lessons learned by Dark John were terminal. To fleece the sheriff of his taxes and the duty on his imports earned him an early death. The route to that death was long and painful. The dying had been drawn out over a month; the sheriff enjoyed the dying. Not the death because at death the entertainment was over, but the process of bringing about that death. Ah, sweet suffering.

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