


Today’s letter is Q. Try as I might to find something other than Queen Anne’s Lace, I was unable to locate anything. I hope that my macros will add a little twist to this wonderful challenge. Comments and questions, as always, are welcome!





As the knocking on the carriage door grew louder and more insistent, Queen Pirouette put her hands over her ears. “My God!” She exclaimed. “What could possibly be so important that you knock down my door!”
The sudden change in events caused Lady Eleanor to be struck sober. Her giggles were replaced by groans. Lady Abigail reached into the basket on her lap and extracted the bottle of brandy yet again. She carefully poured a small portion into a tiny crystal goblet. The aroma of the thick, heavy liquid filled the compartment and gave the Queen a sense of comfort.
“Here, Your Majesty,” said Lady Abigail. “Rejuvenate yourself.”

As quickly as it came, the storm passed, leaving behind a clear, sunny sky and a refreshing breeze. Before the Queen and her ladies could continue their progress, there was a knock on the carriage door. “Now what!” Exclaimed Lady Eleanor. Playfully, Lady Abigail put a hand over her colleague’s mouth. In response, Lady Eleanor gave Abigail a gentle slap on the wrist. In the blink of an eye, the women’s roughhousing escalated.
“Ouch! That hurts!” Cried Abigail as Eleanor bit into her shoulder. “You don’t have teeth! You have fangs!”
“Stop that,” chided the Queen.
“Your Majesty,” said the man at the door. “A humble subject begs an audience with Your Grace.”

With a wave and a smile, Queen Pirouette’s carriage was off again, down the road toward Castle Rising. After just a few minutes, a clap of thunder shook the vehicle. The sky instantly darkened and then opened up a torrent of rain. To the passengers, it sounded as though they were being pelted with stones, but it was only the water.
The windows of the carriage began to steam, so Abigail drew a handkerchief from her sleeve and began to buff the window nearest to her. “My goodness! Such a storm!” She said.
When Pirouette heard the wheels of the carriage swash in the ruts that passed for a road, she took the handle on her cane and pounded the ceiling. “Stop!” She shouted. “Stop this instant!”

Creepiness can persist even in broad daylight, whether filtered through a curtained window, or under the intrusive nursing home light. Who’s baby doll is that? Why is it alone? Where’s its mommy? But look, someone is in the other bed! It’s just a tiny bulge under a crisp linen sheet.


To Queen Pirouette’s recollection, there weren’t so many vines growing on the outer walls of Castle Rising. As her entourage drew closer to the destination, the road began to line with well-wishers from the nearby villages. Some wore fine clothes. Others were in rags. The driver of the Queen’s carriage began to throw newly minted coins with Her Majesty in profile on one side and on the reverse was an eagle, its wings outstretched and in its beak, a tiny scroll that read, “Peace & Prosperity.”
A woman with two little girls, hand in hand approached the carriage. One child carried a bouquet of flowers and the other held a picture in a frame. Pirouette ordered the driver to stop. As the carriage door opened, the people broke out in spontaneous applause. “Please, Your Majesty!” Cried the woman, “Bless my daughters.”
“I’ll do better than that,” replied the Queen. “Each of your daughters will be provided an ample dowery that they may wed well.” With a benevolent smile, the Queen took the gifts from the children. When she looked more closely at the frame, she saw that it held a holy icon- the image of Saint Swithin.
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